


But If You're Gonna Dine With Them Cannibals

by Cat__nevermind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of the prank, Black Family Feels (Harry Potter), Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Cruciatus Curse (Harry Potter), Dark Magic, Discrimination, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Explicit Language, First War with Voldemort, Gay Sirius Black, Kidnapping, Lily Evans is a Beatles Fan, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Andromeda Black Tonks - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Serious Injuries, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Speaks French, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Torture, Underage Smoking, Violence, discrimination against muggleborns, mentions of Arranged Marriage, pre-wolfstar, sirius runs away, wizard traditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29616327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat__nevermind/pseuds/Cat__nevermind
Summary: Summer 1976:In which Lily Evans is kidnapped, Sirius Black runs away from home, and there is a war approaching...
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Potter Family & Sirius Black, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black & Black Family, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer:  
> The tags should be taken seriously. This story deals with a number of really heavy themes, so please only go on reading if you feel comfortable! There will be a short disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter with the respective warnings. Generally, the tags should be sufficient though.
> 
> With that said, enjoy!
> 
> TW Chapter 1:  
> child abuse, mentions of malnourishment, mentions of captivity, implied psychological abuse, mind games, discrimination, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of torture
> 
> I should also mention that I know absolutely nothing about Lughnasadh or other pagan holidays.

_summer of 1976_

(week one)

The clouds outside the window were grey and heavy, floating just above the London skyline. The air probably smelled like rain and thunder, humid and pregnant with foreboding. In the typical fashion of an English summer, the sun was nowhere to be seen, despite it being still early in the day.

Sirius touched the glass with his forehead and felt the expected tingle rush through his body, the sensation, like brushing an electrically charged doorknob, the only hint at the magical seal his mother had put on the window. An unnecessary precaution, really. He was sure she had only done it so he would be reminded of her hold on him as often as possible.

Mind games and regular demonstrations of power were essential for survival at number 12 Grimmauld Place.

It had been roughly 48 hours since Sirius had once again entered his childhood home and he was already consumed with the familiar desire to escape. With a sigh, he stepped away from the window and regarded the unfinished letter on his desk. The ink had dried hours ago, he’d written it in the half-light around sunrise, hastily scribbled words in his annoyingly tidy handwriting. The letter said:

_Dear Remus,_

_I hope the moors and sheep are still agreeing with you? Unsurprisingly, I’m already ready to crawl out of my skin, but I haven’t done anything stupid yet, so you could say things are going alright. How are you keeping yourself busy? The DADA homework is a joke, it didn’t even take me one afternoon. Isn’t it dreadful how productive I get when there’s nothing else to do? Whoever invented summer holidays should be held accountable, don’t you think? I miss you._

His gaze lingered on the last sentence, it seemed to be staring back at him like a dare, whispering to him, _I bet you won’t do it, coward_. And Sirius knew it was the truth. He’d written with the vague intention of sending the letter, but the further he’d gotten the more he’d realised there was no way he was going to go through with it. Ever since the incident, his glorious fuck up, the following fight, he’d been hesitant to express any kind of genuine affection. It all felt way too presumptuous now.

A small sound caught his attention, the creaking of footsteps on the stairs. In the eternal silence of the house, it appeared to be louder than it really must have been. Sirius had trained himself to listen for these noises, another thing necessary for surviving the summer. He rushed over to lie on his bed and pulled the blanket all the way up, a weak attempt at pretending he was still asleep.

The shuffle outside his room told him it was Kreacher who had come up to the (quite literal) lion’s den. The house-elf hammered his small fists against the door and snarled:

“The Firstborn’s presence has been requested!”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Sirius buried himself deeper in the cushions. Again, the house-elf knocked on the door, even more urgently this time.

“The Master has requested his son’s presence”, he repeated.

 _Keep your head down_ , Sirius reminded himself. _Don’t get into trouble, not this year, not today._

With a _pop_ , the elf appeared on his side of the door, his bloodshot eyes only inches away from Sirius’ own. They stared at each other for a moment. He thought that it was a tired game, the well-known patterns in which they were moving always seemed to end the same way - namely in a catastrophe.

“Kreacher has been sent to bring the blood traitor downstairs.”

“Ah”, Sirius said, “there it is. I was wondering how long you’d pretend to be polite this time.”

“Worthless scum, the Mistress said it herself”, hissed Kreacher.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

The house-elf disapparated without another word.

To the empty room, Sirius proclaimed: “I’m not getting into trouble.”

Spoken out loud, it sounded exactly like the lie it was. With another sigh, he dragged himself out of bed again, even made an effort to stop in front of the mirror and brush his hair behind his ears with his fingers. He was trying, he was playing along, and he was trying.

“It won’t make them hate you less”, whispered the mirror.

Sirius smiled at his own reflection and found the result to be satisfactory.

When he entered the kitchen, he immediately felt the hairs in the back of his neck stand. No one seemed to notice his presence, or at least nobody seemed to care enough to acknowledge it. He was used to that already. Normally, those were the better days.

Walburga Black sat at the long wooden table, her younger son at her left. They were having a conversation, one of the civil kind which Sirius had never once managed to have with his mother. Civility had always been Regulus’ specialty.

There was a third plate opposite to Walburga, Sirius’s spot, and since he didn’t know what else to do with himself, he quietly took a seat. Family breakfasts weren’t really a thing at Grimmauld Place, at least not for him. But maybe this was the price for keeping his head down, obeying like a good little boy. Merlin, how he hated it.

He ate silently and quickly. Remus always liked to tease him for his eating manners, the way he’d devour a meal like he’d been starved for days, no matter what was put on his plate. For a while they had made a game out of it, the others would randomly add dishes to Sirius’ portion at dinner and he’d always finish them, no matter how ridiculous the combinations were. Eventually they had to abandon it because of the insane stomach aches he’d get afterwards.

Sirius never told them that eating disgusting food beat eating nothing and how he would know about that. In fact, he never talked much about any of the disciplinary measures he’d been raised with.

His mother was strict with everyone, even herself. He’d never seen her stand less than upright, her mouth was always pressed into a thin line, like she’d just bitten into something sour. She was a Black, through and through, and she was so with pride. But she was easy to provoke, as he knew from personal experience. He’d probably gotten his temper from her.

Orion Black on the other hand was always stone faced, almost expressionless. Where his mother fuelled his anger with her own, his father scared the shit out of him. You could never tell with him, whether he was going to smile or raise his wand. In that way, Regulus resembled their father most. Always unpredictable.

Sirius was just beginning to wonder why he would have requested his presence if he wouldn’t even show up himself, when the head of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black entered the kitchen. Instantly, the atmosphere changed. Walburga and Regulus respectfully paused their breakfast and waited for him to take his seat at the top of the table, Sirius joining them begrudgingly.

“We will be leaving for the Manor tomorrow”, Orion Black announced once he sat.

This did not seem to spark much surprise from the other family members, but Sirius felt his breath catch for a second. It took a great amount of self-control not to search for his brother’s eyes questioningly, but to keep his gaze fixed on the now empty plate in front of him.

_No trouble, not this year and not today._

“For how long?”, asked Regulus.

“That is still to be decided. It depends on how many other families attend the festivities.”

Sirius stared at his plate with so much focus that he could have burned a hole through it if he wanted to, trying to remember what festivities his father could possibly be talking about. There were a number of holidays only families like the Blacks celebrated, holidays with dark, horrific origins that demanded for traditions going back to the dark ages, when witches and wizards had relied on rituals and sacrifices.

He’d seen these kinds of celebrations, but he couldn’t recall one that would be dated this time of the year. Not that it mattered. If they went to the Manor, it meant the extended family would be there, which was bad enough in itself, not to mention the ominous _others_ his father had spoken of.

“I expect both of you to be ready at sunrise”, Walburga declared, giving each of her sons a pointed look.

Regulus nodded and replied: “Yes, mother.”

Finally, Sirius raised his head to look up at his mother. Her jaw was clenched, and contempt flickered in the cold grey of her eyes.

Under the table, Regulus kicked him hard in the shin, but Sirius had done this often enough for his face not to betray a thing.

He pressed out: “Yes, mother.”

The last word came out sounding like an accusation, but Walburga Black didn’t seem to notice. For her it was satisfactory enough to have him perform at her command. 

With a jerk of her head, she dismissed the two of them from the kitchen and Sirius hurried to get out of the room, his brother not far behind him. They made their way upstairs without speaking. The acoustics in the house were a rather peculiar thing and therefore it was safer to get as much distance as possible between them and their parents before breaking the silence.

When they had made it to the third floor, Sirius turned around and opened his mouth, but his brother was quicker.

“ _Lughnasadh_ ”, he said. “We only celebrate it properly every 13 years.”

“Sounds pagan.”

“It is. Originally.”

They stood for a moment, just looking at each other, a couple of feet of safety distance between them.

Regulus added: “It’s about abundance and deprivation. They’re two sides of the same coin, so we honour them by establishing both of them equally for a seven-day celebration.”

Sirius leaned back against the door to his room and examined his brother more closely. He noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the bony structure of his face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Regulus looked nothing short of malnourished. But that wasn’t the reason for his gaunt appearance, no, it was the house, this place filled to the brink with dark magic, the residue of forbidden spells that created a thick layer of poisonous mist in the air. Here, they breathed in black magic like oxygen.

Slowly, Sirius concluded: “So, if we’re the ones feasting in abundance, who’s going to represent the deprivation?”

Regulus’ expression didn’t change, but it didn’t have to for Sirius to know that that was precisely what he had been trying to tell him.

 _No trouble_ , he thought, but it tasted like a joke. How was he supposed to not get into trouble if they were going to hurt innocents? How was he supposed to just play along with that?

“Don’t”, Regulus said softly. “He would kill you.”

With a nonchalant shrug, Sirius turned to open the door. His head was pounding, he needed fresh air, needed to go outside and feel the breeze and the rain on his face. Of course that was not a possibility.

“Don’t worry about me”, he told his brother. “You know I’d never do anything stupid.”

It was late in the afternoon when James finally called him through the mirror.

He had been trying to keep himself occupied with the Potions homework, but it was so easy that he’d quickly gotten fed up with it and so he’d spent most of the day with his feet on the desk, staring out the window and waiting for James to check in on him.

“How are you holding up?”, he asked.

It was his worried-but-trying-not-to-show-it-voice.

“I’m thinking I might perform some underage magic to blow this entire place up”, Sirius replied.

In the mirror, James’ brows furrowed dangerously.

“That was a joke”, he said unconvincingly. “Merlin, Jamie, don’t look at me like that.”

Thankfully, James managed a little laugh. They both pretended it wasn’t completely fake.

“How are Euphemia and Fleamont? Did they receive my anniversary gift?”

“Yes, they did”, James groaned. “Actually, mum won’t shut up about it. She says it’s the best she’s ever gotten.”

“Mate, I told you, gifts are my superpower.”

Sirius felt the grin spreading on his face and didn’t even try to hide it.

“Yeah”, James muttered, “thanks for setting the bar so low, _mate_.”

For the first time since he’d come back to London, Sirius actually felt like laughing.

“They told me to tell you they’re sending their love and you should sit tight.”

“Of course I will”, he said but it sounded hollow. “Tell them thanks.”

“I will. Have you heard from the others?”

“No.”

The word tasted bitter _. It’s not because of what happened_ , he reminded himself, _he forgave me_. But it was a hard thing to believe.

“Oh, yeah, no, me neither”, lied James. It was a generous lie and Sirius loved him for it, even if it was obviously not the truth.

“Is there any chance they’ll let you come over this year?”

“I don’t think so”, he sighed. “We’ll be at the Manor tomorrow. I don’t know for how long. Fucking purist traditions, but at least I’ll get to go outside.”

Now, the worry in James’ face was unmistakeable. He probably shouldn’t have put it like that, James didn’t need to know the sad details of his life at Grimmauld Place.

“What kind of traditions?”

“Some pagan party, whatever. Big family reunion.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”, he asked, and Sirius forced himself to look at him in the mirror. The concern in his eyes made him feel sick.

“I’ll be fine” he said. “I’m not getting into trouble, remember?”

_Sitting tight and playing along._

“Seriously.”

“I mean it, Prongs. I’m trying.”

A year ago that wouldn’t have meant anything. Now, after The Prank, they both knew it was the truth. James scratched his chin and contemplated for a while.

Eventually, he mumbled:

“If you don’t talk to me at least once a day, I’ll call the fucking Aurors on them, I’m not joking.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that his family basically owned the Ministry. And anyway, it was the thought that counted.

When they arrived at Black Manor the next morning, the first thing Sirius noticed were the sunrays peeking in through the large window opposite the fireplace. Apparently in the countryside, summer had actually managed to vanquish the British weather, at least for now.

He was the last to floopowder into the spacious parlour, his parents were already gone and only Regulus was waiting for him, his face noncommittal. Sirius brushed ashes off his trousers and raised an eyebrow at his little brother.

“Are you babysitting me?”

Regulus shrugged and opened the door to the hall.

“I’m being polite. You should try it sometime.”

To Sirius’ great disappointment, Bellatrix Black, newly Bellatrix Lestrange was the first person they came across in the garden of the Manor. She was wearing Slytherin green robes and waved her wand at them as a greeting, the only thing that discredited her intimidating appearance was the field of rose flowers she was standing in.

“Regulus, dear”, Bellatrix cried and went to briefly embrace her younger cousin.

“Good to see you, Bella”, Regulus replied diplomatically. “Where’s your sister?”

_Sister. Singular._

Sirius was very aware of his own wand in the right sleeve of his robe as he smiled widely and said:

“Yes, Bella, it is indeed a pleasure to see you. How is Andy doing these days? Or wait, sorry, I forgot, we’re pretending she never existed.”

Shooting him a contemptuous look, Bellatrix replied to his brother: “Cissy’s upstairs writing a letter. I see your company hasn’t improved since last time.”

“Don’t blame him for my presence”, Sirius snorted. “Neither of us is happy with the situation, trust me.”

Bellatrix sighed: “I pity your poor parents.”

“Well, I prefer to pity myself, it seems much more appropriate.”

Her eyes flickered and Sirius stared back at her provokingly, itching to have her raise her wand, have her start the inevitable fight, until Regulus, still seemingly uninterested, enquired:

“When are the others arriving?”

“Tomorrow.”

She threw her head back and waves of dark hair followed. Sirius thought that Bellatrix, like him had inherited the Black family features, the temperament, the sharp mind, the great hair. They were all just variating versions of the same thing.

He managed to keep his promise till after dinner.

That in itself was of course a miracle, but somehow, he kept biting his lip and swallowing the taste of copper whenever he would have lashed out usually.

His father and uncle spent an excruciating amount of time debating what the lawful punishment for crossing bloodlines with a non-pure-blood should be, but Sirius kept his mouth shut. Thought to himself that a law against inbreeding would be more appropriate.

Bellatrix and Narcissa discussed the latter’s upcoming wedding with their mothers and he managed to refrain from making a comment about her choice of groom. Or rather, her lack of choice in that matter.

“Lucius is so lucky to have you, I’m sure you will have the most beautiful children.”

Regulus was praised by all of them for his outstanding grades, his tendency towards the proper side of magic – everything being said with a peer at Sirius, a snide remark on how unfortunate his choices had been. He supposed that everything appeared to be more favourable if compared to a bad example. But he kept quiet, focused on the meal, only said “yes” and “please” and “thank you” at the right times.

“Not even every pure-blood’s seed is flawless”, Uncle Cygnus mused with a haughty look in Sirius’ direction, “but luckily, my dear sister, you have proven your quality in raising your second son. A shame that of all things the heir had to be a degenerate.”

Sirius, mirroring his mother’s expression, just gritted his teeth and stared at the food in front of him.

By the time they had made their ways through dessert, he was practically bursting with desire to disappear to his room and brag to James about his accomplishment. Maybe he should ask him to mention it to Moony, to prove that even Sirius Black was capable of outgrowing childish defiance.

That was until Aunt Drusilla, dabbing her napkin on the corner of her mouth, said:

“I really do hope they tighten the anti-werewolf laws like the Minister announced. These monsters really should not be allowed to just walk among us as if they were one of us.”

Walburga nodded and agreed: “They are an endangerment to our society.”

Sirius moved before he could stop himself, his hand slammed down on the table and the silver plates clashed at the impact.

“They are not”, he heard himself snarl. “They are not monsters.”

The room seemed to freeze at that. All eyes were fixed on him now, blatant disgust and disdain written in all of their faces.

 _Merlin fuck me_ , he thought.

“Out”, his father commanded. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

He knew that tone, the danger that lurked behind the perfect illusion of control. Without meaning to Sirius curled his hands into fists and returned the look courageously.

Bellatrix sneered, but didn’t say a word, Narcissa beside her didn’t dare to meet his eyes. His aunt and uncle made no attempt to hide their disapproval, and Regulus was vacantly staring at the folded hands in his lap as if he could escape the situation if he just didn’t acknowledge it.

Walburga Black was fuming with outrage.

“Out. Now”, Orion repeated and Sirius, feeling an all too well-known numbness spread through his entire body, did as he was told.

He would have put up a fight. Normally, he wouldn’t have yielded so easily, would have stood by his word until he couldn’t stand anymore, but he had promised, over and over again that this year would be different. That he would pick his battles, be smart about it.

If anything, his obedience was damage control.

Before the door fell shut behind them, he could hear Drusilla say to his mother:

“I cannot believe you allow this outrageous behaviour!”

Sirius didn’t hear Walburga’s response. He turned around to face his father who had followed him out of the dining room. He only caught a glimpse of his expression, angrily squinted eyes, then Orion Black backhanded him across the face, and he was thrown to the side by the force of the strike.

Pain exploded in his right cheek, his temple, the side of his lip where the family signet ring had collided with his mouth. It tasted like blood.

But Sirius managed to stay with both feet on the ground. Slowly, he straightened back up and lowered the arms he’d instinctively raised to shield himself.

“Get on your knees”, Orion Black spat at him.

Sirius felt his wand at his forearm, it would have been so easy to let it slide into his hand and defend himself instead of just taking it like a bloody coward.

“Make me”, he retorted, which was a mistake, and he knew it, but there was only so much humiliation he could tolerate.

The curse hit him right in the centre of his chest and his legs immediately collapsed under him, his knees crashing into the marble floor.

“Now”, his father said, “this will help you remember that you are not to talk back to your superiors.”

With a flick of his wand, an invisible whip came down on Sirius’ back, tearing through his clothes. The blow almost knocked him over and he ended up on his hands and knees, cursing under his breath.

“You will not embarrass me in front of them again. Not today and not for the rest of our stay here.”

The second strike hit him even harder than the first. Sirius had trouble straightening himself again, there was a searing pain running across the long side of his back.

Orion Black concluded, his voice sharp as a blade:

“And you will keep your shameful opinions to yourself.”

The whip came down on him a third time and Sirius crashed into the floor, his head banging against the cold stone. For a moment, all he could see was blurred darkness.

Then, a hand grabbed him by the hair and roughly pulled him up, only to slam his face back down on the ground again. A tiny whimper escaped his throat.

His father let go of him and he could hear his steps veering away, the door to the dining room opened and closed with a gentle _thud_. Sirius fought back nausea as he tried to push himself up on his elbows. The room seemed to be spinning and his back protested with screaming pain.

 _James is gonna lose it_ , he thought.

It took him longer than it should have to get back on his feet and up to the room he and Regulus shared whenever they came to stay at the Manor. He grabbed a new set of robes and locked himself in the bathroom, where he slowly examined the damage, peeled off the ruined clothes and carefully washed the blood from his face.

It wasn’t pretty.

The three vertical lines that stretched over the entirety of his back were aggravated by the fresh clothes he put on, every movement triggered a varying degree of pain, and the right side of his face had already transformed into a cluster of red swellings. Not to mention the relentless headache.

Sirius allowed himself to sit down on the toilet seat for a moment. His breathing hadn’t returned to normal yet and so he just stared at the black wooden door opposite to him and waited for his heartrate to slow. He’d had a lot worse before. In fact, his father had been pretty easy on him.

The most important thing now was for him to keep his head held high, to pretend like the pain didn’t bother him, like all of it was just another game of power, which in a way it was.

So, Sirius gritted his teeth and forced himself to leave the bathroom again. With the vague intention of enjoying the last sunshine of the day, he made his way to the garden. To his relief he didn’t run into anyone, but he could hear the adult’s voices still arguing in the dining room as he passed.

He would check in with James later tonight, when it was dark, and he could pretend to be tired. If he was lucky, the bruises wouldn’t even be visible through the mirror. And if not, then, in contrast to what he had believed earlier, he would beg James not to tell a single word to Remus. He couldn’t afford for him to know how much of a fuckup he truly was, not after he had been trying so hard to win back his trust.

Sirius followed a little path to the back of the estate, where the coppice was significantly less domesticated than in the front, until he arrived at the old overgrown pavilion. It was practically hidden among the trees and bushes and had always been a place where he used to come to escape the madness.

He found the pavilion already crowded with his brother and cousins, lounging between the twigs and branches. No one was surprised by his presence, even less so by his battered appearance.

Bellatrix was sitting with one leg on each side of the railing, as he approached, she leaned back to examine him, but for once her face remained neutral. Her sister sat on the other side of the pavilion, like a princess in the saddle, her delicate shape looking fragile surrounded by the rampant wilderness.

Regulus was bent over, his elbows resting on the barrier, and he was the only one who didn’t turn to look at Sirius. 

He stepped into the pavilion himself and, almost naturally took his place at his brother’s side, wrapping his hands around the railing and staring ahead into the sun speckled coppice.

They’d been here before. It had been five of them then, five children, trying to find small pieces of solace in hiding from their cruel reality. Summers at the Manor had always felt a little like a dream, surreal up to an almost frightening degree.

The pavilion was the centre of it all. This was sacred ground, where they had always put their differences aside and simply dwelled in each other’s company. The kind of mutual understanding only another Black could share.

Here, the air was different from the rest of the estate. It felt like there was something within it, but not like the layer of dark magic that could be sensed at Grimmauld Place or inside the Manor. Rather, it seemed to Sirius like right here another kind of magic ruled. Like this spot was untouched by the darkness around it, charged with something _more_.

Andromeda had been the one who discovered it first, who had led them all to it, presenting it to them as if it were a secret treasure that only they could see. She had always been the one thing that glued them together, less radical than Bellatrix, gentler than Sirius, more vocal than Narcissa, less withdrawn than Regulus. She was the best of all of them and he couldn’t believe how they could just pretend she’d never even been a part of their lives.

The brutal price a blood traitor had to pay. Banishment and disgrace, the two things he’d seen promised for his own future in every divination practice he’d ever had the nerve to do. Chains too, but Sirius thought that he was imprisoned already, so he never read much into them.

“Have you heard from her at all?”, he asked into the silence.

Bellatrix clicked her tongue.

“How is it that every time I see you, you manage to get yourself beaten bloody?”

To everyone’s surprise Narcissa said: “She’s doing fine. She says she’s happy.”

Her sister snorted.

“How bloody great for her”, she hissed.

Sirius pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and took one for himself, then offered them to the others, who all grabbed one, respectively.

“She says he’s the love of her life”, Narcissa elaborated, sounding untypically weary.

“She left, Cissy”, Bellatrix snapped. “I don’t care why, she fucking left and that’s all that matters.”

Sirius took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air, watched it drift away with the breeze before he said to his younger cousin:

“I think it matters why she left. If she’s happy now…”

“Of course you would say that”, said Bellatrix. She shot him a furious look.

Before he could react, Narcissa, supressing a cough, insisted: “I think he’s right, Bella.”

She practically seemed to be daring her to disagree. But Bellatrix didn’t respond, just shrugged and smoked and stared off into the distance.

Regulus murmured: “Still feels selfish though.”

After a moment of silence, Narcissa said, her voice almost inaudible:

“Mother said I can’t even invite her to the wedding.”

There was devastation in her voice and Sirius wondered briefly which of the two things was worse for her, the sister’s absence or the event itself. The women of the Most Ancient House of Black didn’t get much say in the choice of their grooms, an appropriate match from a proper pure-blood family was appointed to them. Some, like Bellatrix were lucky enough to get along with their husbands but others, like Narcissa didn’t have that luxury.

 _Why doesn’t she resist_ , he asked himself. _Why does she never stand up for herself?_

“Merlin, Cissy, she’s brought shame on our family and turned her traitorous back on us. Why would you even want to have her there?”

“Besides”, Regulus mused, “I don’t believe your fiancé would be too happy about it either.”

“That tosser”, Sirius said with emphasis.

Narcissa crossed her arms in front of her chest. Contrary to her sister she still looked gracile though, elegant in an infuriatingly effortless manner.

“He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

“Yeah, because he needs you to marry him”, grunted Bellatrix. “He’s a Malfoy, Merlin’s sake, he’s after the status.”

Hurt flashed across Narcissa’s face. She turned away and let her blond waves of hair cover her expression.

Regulus said: “I’d rather marry a Malfoy than one of those ill-tempered Rosiers.”

“Lucius Malfoy”, Bellatrix proclaimed, “is a pathetic little baby. He may be of pure blood, but he doesn’t have what it takes. _Mauviette_.”

With a glance at his older cousin, Sirius added: “You deserve better than that coward, Cissy.”

Narcissa whipped her head around again, her blue eyes were glistening with anger. For her, that was a rarity.

“You two with your ideals and your impossible high standards”, she growled. “You cannot expect everyone to be as bloody gifted as yourselves! Some of us take what we can get. You are just arrogant.”

Sirius and Bellatrix exchanged a bewildered look and Regulus hid his amused smirk behind the glowing cigarette. When Sirius opened his mouth to argue with her, Narcissa dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t”, she said decidedly. “We’re done talking about my engagement.”

A little stunned, both he and Bellatrix refrained from contradicting her. Instead, they kept their mouths shut and it was Regulus who, pushing himself away from the railing, said:

“Father mentioned there would be a surprise gift for us tomorrow. Something for us to showcase our talents.”

“Last time they had captured Muggles”, said Bellatrix. It didn’t sound like it excited her much.

Regulus blew smoke out of his nose. “I know.”

Sirius felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

 _Now what would Jamie say to that_ , he wondered. _Am I still supposed to just go along with it?_

“I’m not showcasing anything”, he muttered.

With an exaggerated eyeroll, Bellatrix sneered: “Don’t expect anyone to be surprised. They all know what a disappointment you are, Siri. You keep reminding them.”

Her gaze lingered on the mangled side of his face.

“You’re just mad you never learned to think for yourself”, he shot back.

Narcissa asked: “So you’re going to disobey them publicly, in front of all the other families? You do know what they’ll do to you, don’t you?”

Now, it was his turn to point out the swelling that graced his visage.

“I’m like a goldfish that way”, he told her with a wicked grin. “No long-term memory.”

But she didn’t return the smile and shrugged.

“If we’re expected to hex a couple of Muggles, I don’t see the problem. They’ll wipe their memories afterwards anyway.”

Instinctively, Sirius turned to his brother and found him returning his look. Neither needed to speak to know what the other was thinking.

_Or they’ll just kill them._

Nowadays that seemed to be the more likely option. People were dying like flies and the two brothers knew exactly why it were never any members of the ancient pure-blood families.

The air around them prickled with that _something_ Sirius had sensed before.

A warning, a sign, a starting shot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Chapter 2:  
> mentioned child abuse, discrimination, toxic family dynamics, underage drinking
> 
> Also, please pardon my French :))

_summer of 1976_

(week one)

The next morning, there was a vial of Murtlap Essence on his nightstand. He knew that the gesture was not to be confused with remorse or kindness but was merely an order for him to make himself look presentable for when the other families would arrive.

“Charming”, he grunted to himself and went to the bathroom to apply it in front of the mirror.

At least it calmed the constant ache in his back and face.

The day went by in a hurry. From his room’s window, Sirius watched the house-elves put up tents in the garden. He could hear the people arriving, there were voices on the stairs and in the hall, but he stayed in his room, eager to minimize the exposure to those pure-bloods as much as possible.

At some point Regulus appeared in the door and told him to get ready. They both put on their dress robes, black with dark green details, a matching set, of course. Their mother gladly took every opportunity to create the illusion of a united front. Her perfect aristocrats, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Sirius tied his hair together in his neck, which left him looking unusually tidy. Although the right side of his face was still specked with bruises, they were less conspicuous now, only visible if you paid attention. Surely, Walburga would be pleased.

Regulus gave him a sceptical look.

“You don’t look like yourself”, he observed.

“I thought that’s the whole point.”

He stepped behind him and helped his little brother adjust his collar.

Quietly, Sirius said: “If it comes down to it, you can’t give them a reason.”

Regulus, still looking ahead, replied: “As always.”

They both knew their roles in this. The prodigal son, who’d take the blame and the punishment, and the obedient prodigy, who’d cross moral lines to secure the parents’ favour. It would be a game of strategy, like everything in the Black family was. Only that tonight, the stakes were much higher than usual.

The pure-blood families were mingling in the garden. There were varieties of alcoholic beverages on floating silver trays, the area was illuminated by softly glowing fairies, and there was a string quartet playing. All in all, the atmosphere might have been mistakeable for pleasant, if it hadn’t been for the snippets of conversations that reached Sirius’ ears.

Not for the first time he wondered how delusional people could be.

The two brothers found their cousins in the crowd. Narcissa was wearing a light green dress that complimented her pallor, Bellatrix was dressed in all black, her eyes were framed with dark eyeliner which, combined with their manic gleam, made her look nothing short of predatory.

With them were their partners, Lucius Malfoy in expensive looking grey dress robes, and Rodolphus Lestrange who, like his brother Rabastan next to him, was looking like he had expected to be attending a funeral instead of a party.

The latter snickered as they approached and greeted Sirius with a snarky twitch of his mouth.

“Well, look at you”, Lucius Malfoy purred, eyeing him from head to toe. “You could almost pass for a respectable wizard.”

Sirius grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and raised it to the other man before taking a sip.

“I am the heir to the House of Black, Malfoy, show some respect”, he retorted in his most pretentious posh accent.

Narcissa scowled and Bellatrix said, squinting her painted eyes at him: “You are acting untypically civil, dear cousin.”

Of course, at a formal gathering like this, her accent was impeccable too.

“Indeed”, her husband added. “What happened to the blood traitor Gryffindor boy?”

Sirius could see her stiffen at that, just like his little brother did, immediately scanning their surroundings to make sure no one had overheard the comment.

“I have been told to work smarter, not harder. Anyway, let’s just get this bloody thing over with.”

He turned to Regulus who, for once, nodded in agreement. 

The thing was, the other Blacks wanted to keep up the appearance just as much as he did. If he was keen on not getting into trouble, they were practically obsessed with it. It would be anything but beneficial for them if the other pure-bloods, the Goyles, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and all those other foreign families that for some reason had come to England for _Lughnasad_ _h_ , found a blood traitor in their midst. 

Normally, he wouldn’t care about their reputation, like he didn’t care what those people thought of him, but tonight, things were different.

For him, the best way to get through the holidays in one piece was to get through this celebration without making a scene. And for that to work, he not only had to comply to everything they wanted him to be, but he also had to keep convincing the others that he wasn’t the rebellious Muggle-sympathiser they had heard of. So, Sirius was actually relying on the other Blacks’ wish to remain respectable. Because of it, they would help him get through the night.

A small blond girl had appeared next to Rabastan and now politely greeted them with a bow of her head.

“Irene Krest”, she introduced herself. “My family and I came a long way for this celebration.”

Lucius, sounding mildly interested enquired: “Durmstrang?”

When she nodded, Sirius’s cousins and their company responded with a small sound of general approval.

“Hogwarts?”, Irene Krest asked in return.

“Yes. Slytherin.”

“Ah”, she said. “I heard the greatest things about wizards and witches who graduated as Slytherins. Although I have to admit, frankly, I find the thought of sharing an educational institution with lowborns and even Mudbloods quite worrying, don’t you think?”

It was somewhat amusing to watch them tense and shift positions in response to that. While Narcissa appeared to be more embarrassed than anything else, her sister and the Lestrange brothers were practically fuming. Naturally, Regulus’ face didn’t betray a thing and Sirius followed suit.

Lucius cracked a pained smile. “Sadly, we are not in the position to enforce more appropriate terms.”

With a glance at Sirius, he added: “Yet.”

Irene Krest followed his gaze and smiled at Sirius, offering him a hand. She seemed to have slightly misinterpreted the threatening undertone in Lucius Malfoy’s voice.

“I was told you were the one to look out for”, she teased and for a second he felt his heart stop in his chest.

Then, without a second glance in Malfoy’s direction, she stepped in front of Sirius and went on:

“The heir to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. What an honour.”

Flashing her a wide, somewhat complacent grin, he took her hand and shook it.

“The honour is mine”, he replied.

“Well”, Irene said, watching him from below her heavy black lashes, “I suppose we will get to see for ourselves if the infamous Slytherin reputation has formed a man fit for the title.”

Her cheeks were blushed in a soft shade of rose, but her tone remained cool. Sirius made sure to maintain their eye contact for just a little bit longer than necessary. _Establish confidence._

“I shall do my best not to disappoint then.”

Behind his back, he could sense how Lucious Malfoy and his cousins were following their exchange of words in an almost comedic manner. Irene Krest however didn’t seem to notice. Without looking away, she tilted her head and mused:

“I have been told there is to be a demonstration. Rumour has it your honourable father has friends in high places.”

“The Black family has always cultivated a close relationship with the Ministry of Magic”, Sirius agreed.

“Well, rumour has it the Ministry will not register any performance of underage magic tonight.”

Irene finally blinked and turned her gaze towards the other Blacks and their company.

“I, for one, am looking forward to it. After all, _Lughnasadh_ is about entertainment, is it not?”

“Indeed”, Lucius’ voice chimed in. He cleared his throat and added something more, but Sirius didn’t hear a word of what he said.

Across Irene Krest’s shoulder, his eyes had spotted a familiar profile among the huddles of wizards, a rather distinctive nose gracing a face framed by curtains of oily black hair.

_What the fuck is Snivellus doing here?_

In retrospective, he might have seen it coming. Snape had been successfully mingling with the pure-blooded Slytherins for years now, he had proven his dedication to the dark arts countless times, and Sirius had heard even Bellatrix, albeit begrudgingly, praise him for it.

Still, he had not been prepared to see him here, not with his face still marked by its latest encounter with the marble floor, not with his parents roaming the crowd. Most definitely not while he was playing the delicate game of being a good son for once in his life.

If Snape saw him dressed up and compliant like this, his fragile ruse would come crashing down instantly. On top of that, Sirius wasn’t sure if his ego would survive the humiliation.

Despite the agitation he felt, he managed to discretely separate Regulus from the others by grabbing his elbow and guiding him to a tray that carried about a dozen shots of boiling firewhiskey. He was certain that some poor house-elf had made a mistake and this particular tray was not supposed to be floating around this early in the evening, but firewhiskey made as good of an excuse as any other drink.

Regulus merely raised a single eyebrow when he shoved the glass in his hand and clinked his own against it.

“Let us drink to the sacred bond of brotherhood”, he announced, loudly enough for any bystanders to hear.

Then, quietly, through gritted teeth he hissed: “What the ever-loving fuck is Snape doing here?”

“Severus is here?”

Mild surprise resonated in Regulus’ voice.

“You didn’t know?”, Sirius asked. The whiskey was burning its way through his throat all the way to his stomach – a feeling Sirius usually found pleasant enough but which he could not seem to enjoy right now.

His brother looked positively offended.

“Do you not think I would have warned you?”

“Well, you’re not a very chatty person, are you?”

Sirius grabbed a second drink and downed it without bothering with any pretence.

“And it’s not like you and I have a particularly vocal relationship, brother dear”, he added.

“I don’t know why Severus is here tonight and if I had known he would be, I would have told you. That sort of complication could lead to severe consequences.”

When Sirius reached for the third glass, Regulus slapped his hand away.

“Do you understand what I am saying?”

Now, his tone of voice was more urgent, his grip on Sirius’ wrist unexpectedly firm.

“What?”, he snapped. “Are you scared I’ll duel little Sev in front of mummy and daddy?”

Regulus tightened his grip even further.

“ _Yes_. I am worried that you could do something irrational, impulsive, and _stupid_ , Sirius. Can you blame me?”

“I won’t.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, I mean it. I won’t pick any fights tonight, not with Snape, not with anyone.”

Regulus looked at him as if he found that hard to believe. But Sirius was telling the truth. For a moment, the two brothers just stared each other down, until, finally, Regulus let go of his hand.

“Don’t be stupid.”

It sounded like a command.

With a grimace, Sirius nodded and then gestured for him to get back to the others, they had been standing too close together and arguing too quietly for too long already. To his relief, Regulus obliged without batting an eye.

“Brilliant”, he muttered to himself.

Sirius turned to where the firewhiskey tray had been just a minute ago but to his disappointment it had floated on through the crowd. With a sigh, he straightened his back, blinked away the haze of the alcohol and followed after his brother.

_Bloody brilliant._

Sirius spent the next four hours successfully dodging risky conversation topics as well as inappropriate conversation partners. He went out of his way to present himself as a believable supporter of the cause, as a proud pure-blood, as the kind of person that would take offense in being seated next to a Muggle-born student in class. Sirius knew all the right words and phrases to make his act convincing, in fact, he found it a little concerning how effortlessly he could become the son his parents had always dreamed of having.

And they were all enamoured with him.

A young wizard with oval glasses who introduced himself as Gareth Greengrass applauded his academic achievements. Alexia Selwyn, a white-haired witch who spoke too loudly and barely understood a word he said, told him what a charming, promising young man he was three times.

In a way, it was baffling how ready they all were to coax and commend him for his character as long as he pretended to agree with them on their purist, fascist worldviews. It made his stomach twist to think that they, too, were just people who had probably been raised like he had and who had been properly fucked up in that way, too.

It wasn’t an excuse. It couldn’t be, he knew better, so they had to be capable of knowing it as well. A part of him wanted to scream at them as they praised and complimented him, beg them to think for themselves, to renounce their wretched beliefs, the bigotry, the blatant pure-blood supremacy. If they just took a moment to _think about it_ , he couldn’t help believing, they would have to be reasonable.

But Sirius kept his mouth shut and his complexion flawless. He kept his tone polite and his words measured, and he laughed whenever he felt it was required of him.

He did not let the boiling rage in his gut get the better of him.

_Not this year, not tonight._

It was all going fine until Orion Black, standing square-shouldered at the top of the stairs leading up to the Manor, clinked a silver spoon against his glass, asking for his guests’ attention.

Sirius found himself to the far left of the knot of people that quickly formed upon his father’s invitation. He gladly took his opportunity to blend in with a group of French wizards about his age who were whispering to each other excitedly. Perhaps, if he managed to disappear into the crowd, he would not be asked to perform whatever magic Irene Krest had been so enthusiastic about. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to, anyway. There were certain lines he did not intend to cross.

Orion Black’s voice, amplified by the wand he was casually pointing at his throat, echoed though the nightly gardens:

“Welcome, dearest guests, fellow defenders of our ancient bloodlines and traditions.”

One of the French boys turned to Sirius and murmured: “Il est un sorcier très impressionnant, non?”

He barely managed to hide his scowl when he whispered back:

“J'ai entendu dire qu'il n'est pas aussi impressionnant qu'il n'y paraît.”

If this boy did not recognize him as Orion’s son, he surely would not get into too much trouble for tampering with his father’s reputation a little. _What kind of bloody idiot found a racist asshole like him impressive in the first place?_

Orion Black had begun to follow up his introduction with a detailed retelling of _Lughnasadh’s_ origins, the values it represented and whatever else there was to say about it. Unable to contain his utter disinterest, Sirius mindlessly let his gaze wander across the faces opposite to him at his father’s left.

He spotted Narcissa and Lucius, both made easily distinguishable by the unusually light colour of their hair. The latter had wrapped an arm around his fiancé’s waist, but Narcissa stood stiffly and did not smile as he leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

Sirius quickly glanced away. It was none of his business anyway. Narcissa was a very capable witch, all Black women were, and if she chose to submit to the backwards ways of their parents and ancestors then there was nothing anyone could do about it, least of all Sirius himself.

Not far from them stood Regulus with his arms crossed and his characteristically expressionless face turned towards their father. Sirius wondered if the pretending messed with his little brother’s head as much as it did with his. The thought of waking up one day to find Regulus on the wrong side of the war made his stomach twist.

 _It’s survival_ , he reminded himself. _It’s strategy, it’s what I told him to do._

Still, a hollow feeling remained in his chest.

“As tonight shall be the beginning of seven days of pure abundance, we are to equally consider, nay, honour our forefather’s sufferings and sacrifices as well”, spoke Orion Black solemnly, as if he had practiced each of the words, their precise intonation.

Sirius hardly paid any attention. He kept scanning the crowd of faces, until, suddenly and inadvertently, his gaze landed on Snape, who seemed to be the only other person that wasn’t entirely captivated by his father’s speech. Instead, his gaping black eyes were staring right back at Sirius.

Unsurprisingly, he found his own distaste reflected in his classmate’s expression.

“Therefore, we will have a symbolic display of these deprivations, representative of the pain that lies opposite the pleasures of _Lughnasadh.”_

Neither of them seemed to be willing to look away first. It gave Sirius some satisfaction to see that he apparently wasn’t the only one who had had a recent run-in with the back of another man’s hand - and it looked like Snape hadn’t even been given the courtesy of Murtlap Essence. His black eye was almost painfully visible, even from afar. Sirius briefly wondered if the Snape family enforced similar disciplinary measures to the House of Black.

“I know you all have come to enjoy yourselves, so I have taken it upon myself to find a way to properly combine this essential tradition with your amusement.”

Since he knew it would make him furious, Sirius allowed his lips to spread into a wicked grin, simultaneously baring his teeth at him. Snape countered with a look of pure disgust.

“Allow me to introduce to you these two magic-possessing beings of the lesser kind that will serve as your entertainment: The Mudblood and the Goblin.”

A murmur went through the crowd, followed by delighted exclamations and applause. Snape’s eyes flickered to where Orion Black was standing and widened. If Sirius hadn’t known any better, he would have thought the other boy was afraid.

“Mon Dieu”, the French wizard next to him mumbled under his breath.

Finally, Sirius directed his attention back to his father and immediately understood the fearful look on Snape’s face. On top of the stairs, red hair wild and her wrists in shackles, stood none other than Lily Evans.

“Now”, said Orion Black with a cruel smile, “let us demonstrate the superiority of our pure blood and the black magic we worship.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Chapter 3:  
> kidnapping, implied/mentioned child abuse, violence, discrimination

_summer of 1976_

(week one)

Petunia wasn’t home when Lily arrived.

It had been late already when they had reached King’s Cross, and since her parents were on holidays in Vienna, Lily had had to get to Cokeworth by train. It was way after midnight when she finally got home. She always found the train ride back to be unreasonably exhausting.

Upon entering the house Lily left her trunk at the bottom of the staircase and strolled into the kitchen, kicking off her shoes along the way. She wasn’t surprised to be greeted by an empty house, not anymore. The last time she’d spoken to her sister, Petunia had made it abundantly clear that she did not consider Lily a part of her life anymore.

“Self-centred cow”, Lily muttered to herself and peeked inside fridge.

Her back was aching from being cramped into her seat for what had felt like an eternity. The muggle trains were even more uncomfortable than the Hogwarts Express itself, and Lily had spent the entire ride cursing the laws against underage magic and the lack of fireplaces in her childhood home.

She grabbed a glass of peanut butter and a spoon and wandered on into the living room, where she dropped down on the sofa, impertinently placing her feet on the coffee table. It wasn’t as glorious as the welcoming feast at Hogwarts, but it was still home.

Lily remembered she’d promised to call her parents, but every bone in her body seemed to protest at the thought of walking over to the phone and anyway, it was far too late for them to still be awake.

So instead, she remained right where she was and chewed on another spoonful of peanut butter.

The school year had been utterly shite.

Somehow the OWLs, the second most prestigious test in the wizarding world of education, hadn’t even been the most stressful thing to happen to her this year. There had been a real-life duel, Marlene had gotten her heart broken, Remus had had a falling out with his stupid friends and James Potter had not stopped being insufferable for a single second. The papers were filled with news of more and more people disappearing, and not just any people, people like her. Muggel-borns.

Mulciber had called her a Mudblood to her face more than a dozen times and Lucius Malfoy had asked her if she was planning on taking any precautions, given the circumstances. And of course, Sev.

Lily still couldn’t quite believe the whole thing with Sev.

All she wanted to do this summer was to escape, to take a break from all the madness and the constant talk of war. She needed to be normal for a while, needed to get away from everything that was looming in the wizarding world. Just this summer.

Afterwards, she would face it all.

The next morning, she found her shoes neatly placed behind the door, but Petunia seemed to have left early, so at least Lily was spared the confrontation. She didn’t miss the passive-aggressive undertone though.

The air was hot and humid, deep clouds hanging over the rooftops and Lily decided to spend the day in pleasant idleness. She sat on the balcony and let her feet dangle between the bars of the banister, had cereal for every meal and thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet. It wasn’t something she had gotten much of as a fifth year Prefect at school.

It wasn’t until the late afternoon that she was disturbed by a knock at the front door. She’d just been in the middle of unpacking by scattering her clothes across her bedroom floor and cursed under her breath as she dashed down the stairs, the knocking growing louder and more impatient with every repetition.

Lily wasn’t sure who she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t Severus.

In all honesty, she hadn’t expected he would dare to show up here at all, had hoped he’d be thoughtful enough to leave her alone for the summer. Perhaps, she would have even been willing to forgive him if he had, if she’d had enough time to think about it.

Not like this though.

“What do you want?”, she asked flatly.

He looked miserable. It hadn’t begun to rain yet, but the sky was grey and heavy and somehow that only made his thin figure standing alone in the dingy street look more pathetic. The black eye stood out against his pale white skin as if it had been painted on his face with ink.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was shaking.

When she didn’t reply immediately, he added: “Please?”

For a moment, she just looked at him. Then, without a word, Lily stepped back and held the door open for him. After he’d stepped inside, she let it fall shut and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Suddenly, Lily felt very aware of the fact she was only wearing a thin top with spaghetti straps and a washed-out pair of pyjama trousers. No bra.

 _Whatever_ , she thought. _It’s not like I give a fuck what he thinks anymore._

It was obvious that Severus was trying hard not to stare. Lily provocatively raised her chin and he cast his eyes down, his fingers were fumbling with the sleeves of his shabby robes.

“Is there a particular reason you’re here?”, she snarled after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

Severus wiped his nose with the back of his hand. It looked like he’d been crying.

“Because if not you can get out right now.”

Abruptly, he raised his head and their eyes met.

“Please, Lily”, he choked out. “I’m sorry. I told you, I am sorry, and I want to make it up to you, please, please let me.”

Against her will, she could feel something aching in her chest. But it couldn’t be this easy. It wasn’t just about the word he’d used that one time she’d been a good friend to him and he had repaid her by yelling a slur in her face. Rather, it was everything else.

The strange, cruel pure-bloods he surrounded himself with, their fascist beliefs and the horrid way they acted on them. It was the fact that Sev was only sorry because it had been her, he had called a Mudblood, not because he had done in the first place. How could he not see what was wrong with that?

And still, the ache in her chest was relentless.

They had history. Years and years of being best friends, of confiding in each other, of her crying on his shoulder and him hiding at her place whenever things got too bad at home. They had been so good, despite everything, the different houses at school, the different circles of friends. Lily had always thought of the two of them as invincible, in their own enduring, quiet kind of way.

Still, it couldn’t be this easy.

“I told you”, she said, “I accept your apology. But it doesn’t change anything, Sev.”

He made a pained sound and raised his hands as if he was trying to reach for her, but then dropped them at his sides instead.

“What do you want me to do?”

Lily forced herself to look him straight in the eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Lily, please, what do you want me to do?”

This was getting frustrating.

“How often do you want me to repeat myself?”

“I don’t know, I just need you to tell me what I can do to make it better. I just need you to tell me what to do, I’ll do anything, I swear!”

Severus was stumbling over his words, gesturing wildly.

“I don’t need to tell you anything”, Lily snapped.

She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, and he visibly flinched at her words. It was hard to feel anything but pity, seeing him like that, desperate and frightened, but Lily couldn’t allow herself to give in to it. No matter how sad he looked, she would not forgive him. There was a war coming and Lily knew which side she had to choose, even if this was the first sacrifice she had to make.

It wasn’t about her or Sev, but about what was right and wrong. If he couldn’t realise that, there was nothing left for her to say.

“Please, Lily”, he pleaded. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to leave”, she said.

Her voice sounded strange in her own ears, much firmer than she thought it would.

Panic flashed across Severus’ face, but she cut him off before he could protest.

“I want you to leave and stay gone. I want you to leave me alone.”

“Lily…”

She turned to open the door again without looking at him.

“ _Please._ ”

Outside, the rain had started to fall. Lily remained unmoving, waiting for him to walk away on his own. She thought it was the least he could do.

Finally, after what felt like ages, she heard his feet shuffle on the wooden floor. Severus walked past her but halted in the doorway, his dark eyes shone with tears. Strangely, all the pity she had felt just a moment ago was gone now, leaving behind nothing but a hollow feeling in her stomach.

“Goodbye, Sev”, she said softly.

Then, she closed the door in his face.

It happened about two days later, when Lily was sitting at her desk, struggling with her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. Her favourite Beatles record was playing, and she had opened the window, the sweet, sticky air of the summer evening was mingling with the soft guitar notes and harmonies. Lily was humming along, scratching her chin with the tip of her wand, as she furrowed her brows over the chapter in the schoolbook. After the less-than-optimal start into her holidays of peace and quiet, she had found that keeping herself distracted with simple tasks was the most efficient way to take her mind off things.

Petunia hadn’t yet deigned to speak a single word to her.

Not that Lily cared, really, at this point she truly didn’t. It was just that a small part of her, after all this time had still been hoping that maybe her sister would be able to forgive her. A stupid hope, utterly delusional, really. But Lily couldn’t help it.

She had just decided to take a break and have a cheeky smoke on the balcony when she heard the cry.

It ripped right through the pleasant atmosphere, the pretty tunes and wildflower smells. The sound of it was horrifying, it sent a shiver through Lily’s entire body and she was up on her feet, wand raised defensively before she had even registered what was happening.

Then, Petunia screamed again.

Lily practically went flying down the stairs, bursting into the living room, ready to hex someone or throw some punches. Her hair was all up in her face, untamed and messy, and she had to brush it away with the back of her sweaty hand to clearly take in the situation.

There were three tall, masked men in dark robes standing in her childhood home. One of them was holding her sister by the hair while another pointed his wand directly at Petunia’s face. The third man, no, _wizard_ , Lily realised, was aiming his wand at her.

As if in trance, she slowly lowered her own wand, unable to tear her gaze away from Petunia who was staring back at her with wild panic in her eyes.

“Let go of her”, Lily choked out.

She didn’t sound like herself.

“Drop your wand, Mudblood. Then we let the Muggle go”, the third wizard replied.

Something about his voice felt awfully familiar, but Lily couldn’t recall where she might have heard it before. If only she could see his face beneath the mask, maybe she could…

Petunia screamed again as the second wizard slapped her across the face with the back of his gloved hand.

“Please, Lily”, she rasped.

With a clacking noise, her wand hit the wooden floor.

That part of her that was undeniably, incorrigibly _Gryffindor_ protested and urged her to _pick it back up, quick, before they can do anything, fire a curse at them, grab Tunia and run._

But her more sensible side prevented her from listening. Instead, Lily raised her hands to her ears and calmly repeated:

“Let her go.”

The third wizard made a gesture with his wand hand upon which the first one immediately dropped her sister to the ground. Petunia made a muffled noise and quickly scrambled away from them until she was sitting with her back to the wall. Her eyes frantically went from the three masked intruders to Lily, and back.

Not daring to make any rash moves, Lily slowly extended one hand towards her older sister but Petunia completely ignored her. She just kept staring back and forth between the wizards and her, fear shining in her hazel eyes. Then, without any warning, she hurried to her feet and bolted.

It happened too fast for any of them to react. They remained in stunned silence as the sound of the front door falling shut behind her echoed through the house. Blinking away the painful sting in her chest, Lily turned back to the three wizards.

The first one made a cackling sound and observed: “Not of the loyal kind, your sister, ay?”

Lily lifted her chin defiantly.

“What do you want?”, she spat back at him.

They exchanged glances with the third wizard who seemed to be the one calling the shots.

“Well”, he said. His wand was aiming at the point right between her eyes.

“We were going to use the non-witch against you, but this will work too.”

He shrugged, almost apologetically. Again, she could have sworn she knew him, the way he spoke, how he held his shoulders, so awfully upright. Something was familiar about him.

Lily felt the other two closing in, their wands moving closer to her face with every step, but she kept her eyes fixed on the leader of the trio.

“Why?”, she demanded.

It was all she could do to supress the raging fear inside her gut.

She could almost hear the sardonic smile in his voice when he replied:

“Consider this your formal invitation to Black Manor, Miss Evans.”

With a flick of his wand, a red bolt of light hit Lily’s forehead and she was overcome by darkness.

When she came to, her wrists were tied behind her back.

Light was falling in through a crack underneath the massive door opposite to her, but it was barely enough to make out silhouettes in the otherwise pitch-black room. With a groan, Lily pushed herself up the cold stone wall until she found herself in a sitting position.

Her head was ringing, but that was just the aftermath of the Stunning Spell. Over the last year she’d had countless headaches like this after she’d volunteered to let Marlene practise it on her, partly to improve her Defence Against the Dark Arts grade, and partly to help her deal with her ongoing lovesickness.

Lily carefully attempted to free her hands from their ties, but the result wasn’t promising.

The room had no windows and as far as she could tell there was only this one door. It looked discouragingly solid. Now, she cursed herself for dropping her wand so mindlessly.

She had acted like a bloody amateur, had fallen into their trap without even realising. And Petunia, that selfish fucking cow had fled at the first opportunity she’d gotten, while Lily, in trying to protect her, had given up her only weapon and let them capture her.

 _Stupid bloody idiot_ , she thought. _When are you finally going to stop holding your hand out to people who’d let you rot in the gutter?_

The odds hadn’t been in her favour, sure, but she was a gifted witch, almost top of her class at that, and her wand had been right there in her hand. But they’d known her weaknesses better than she had herself.

Lily growled in frustration.

Black Manor, the third wizard had said. Wherever the fuck that was.

Since she hadn’t grown up in the wizarding world, Lily didn’t know too much about the wizard families and bloodlines, but she’d read about them, the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They all had manors and ancestral homes all across the English countryside. Malfoy, Potter, Lestrange, Weasley. And Black, of course.

From what she’d heard, the Blacks were the worst of all of them, obsessed with their heritage, the purity of their blood. An entire family tree that exclusively consisted of Slytherins. Well, almost exclusively.

Sirius Black, James Potter’s less handsome but equally talented, equally annoying best friend was a Gryffindor like her. She could scarcely remember that it had been some kind of scandal in their first year when he’d been sorted, but back then she’d known nothing about wizards and their traditions.

A lump formed in her throat as she realised what her location had to mean.

Sure, Sirius was a prick, no question, but she didn’t take him for that much of an asshole. He was close with Remus too, wasn’t he? And Lily was certain that Remus would not be friends with a supremacist that condoned kidnapping Muggle-born witches like herself. It had to be some sort of mistake.

Perhaps Black Manor wasn’t referring to the Black family at all, but rather the colour?

Otherwise, that would mean things were even worse than she had estimated. Much, much worse.

In the back of her head, she could hear Dumbledore’s words from last year’s welcome-back-speech:

“There is a war coming and it might be closer than all of us suspect.”

Merlin, she had hoped there would still be some time left. This couldn’t be it, not like this, not yet.

With some effort, Lily managed to get to her feet. She was still feeling dizzy from the Stupefying Charm, but she gritted her teeth and began to walk along the wall until she reached the first corner. Like that, she measured the entire room. It was more spacious than she had expected, but that didn’t really improve her situation.

What kind of Manor had a literal dungeon it the basement anyway? Apparently, that was a property unique to the Black family’s estate.

Lily shuddered as she imagined what other people – or creatures might have been kept in this exact spot throughout the centuries. She forbade herself from further contemplating what the black-magic-obsessed wizards and witches who owned the place had most likely done with them.

Next, she half-heartedly tried to break through the door by crashing her body against it. It didn’t help at all and only made her shoulder hurt.

When she couldn’t think of anything else to do, Lily sank back to the ground in the corner farthest from the door and pulled her knees to her chest, weighing her options.

At some point, someone would surely come to get her, and since she couldn’t seem to break out on her own, that would have to be her opportunity to escape. Till then, she needed to lose the rope that tied her wrists together and find some sort of weapon, maybe a discarded rock…

Rubbing her fingers over the rugged surface of the wall, she searched for some sort of sharp edge or spike to cut her bonds with. After a couple of minutes, her skin was sore already, but Lily kept going until she came across a promising peak. It was rather hard to position herself in a perfect angle to it, she had to squat awkwardly and raise her hands behind her back in a way that made her arms ache.

Still, she managed to place the ties over the piece of rock that stood out from the wall and thus started vigorously moving her hands back and forth. It took an exhaustingly long time, but eventually, Lily was able to tear the rope off her hands. Wincing from the pain, she cautiously moved her stiff arms, circling her shoulders and wrists in order to regain her ability to move freely.

How long had it been since she’d woken up? She had no sense of time whatsoever, the light that shone in from beneath the door was unchanged. Lily supressed a yawn and got up to stretch in a weak attempt at shaking off the fatigue that she felt creeping up on her.

 _Find something to defend yourself with_ , she reminded herself. _Stay alert._

It was easier said than done. The darkness was almost impenetrable and soon Lily found herself on all fours, feeling around for any lying about scrap that could serve as a weapon. She refused to think about the horrors that doubtlessly awaited her, nor about how humiliating her situation was. If she did, it would only make things worse for her. She needed to stay rational, needed her mind to be sharp and untouched by fear.

In the end, the best thing she could find was a rather large piece of wood which she could easily grab with both her hands and with which she could hopefully distract whoever would come through that door long enough to disarm them and run. Admittedly, it was not exactly a watertight plan, but it was better than no plan at all.

When there was nothing else to be done, Lily slid her back down the wall behind the door, held on to her piece of wood and waited. She must have dosed off at some point, because when she opened her eyes again, the air around her was significantly cooler than before and Lily shivered in her thin shirt and shorts.

At first, she didn’t know why she had awoken so suddenly, but then she registered the distant yet distinctive sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Swallowing hard, Lily grabbed the wood a little tighter and scrambled to her feet.

Her heart was violently beating in her chest. The footsteps came to a halt in front of her door and there was the jingle of metallic keys against a chain, immediately followed by the snap of the lock.

Lily took a shaky breath and raised her weapon ready to strike.

Light flooded the dismal cell as the door swung open with a creaking noise. Squinting her eyes, she could see a pair of patent leather shoes through the small crack between the door and the floor and tensely watched them stepping inside.

“Come here, girl”, a strange husky voice snarled.

The shoes made another step forward and Lily, with a muffled yelp, lunged forward and swung the wood at his face before he could react.

There was a satisfying _crack_ as his nose broke and blood began spattering everywhere. Lily ducked away from his outstretched arm and sprinted past him, her bare feet sliding on the cold ground. She heard him roaring in agony, but she didn’t look back, just kept running down the corridor.

Ahead, she could see a spiral staircase and from the top landing, the soft orange light of torches came flickering down to her.

She almost made it.

When the curse hit her legs, she had just reached the bottom of the stairs, freedom practically at her fingertips. But the Body Freezing Spell took a hold of her and Lily crashed into the stone floor, her head painfully slamming on the ground.

Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Fucking Mudblood”, hissed the man as he walked up to her and flicked his wand.

The relief that overcame her contorted limbs as the curse was lifted from her was only temporary since the wizard immediately pulled her to her feet by the collar of her shirt and locked her wrists in heavy magically sealed shackles.

Lily’s throat tightened as he put his face uncomfortably close to hers and said:

“You will be sorry you did that.”

Then, he spat in her face.

Utterly paralysed with shock, she could just blink at him. Somewhere inside her gut she felt anger boiling, but the fear was stronger.

After that, he kept his wand pointed directly at her the entire way up the stairs, through several hallways and a huge parlour. There, another finely dressed wizard joined their procedure. He was guiding a handcuffed goblin with his wand and raised an eyebrow at the man guarding Lily.

“What happened to your nose, Cygnus?”

“The Mudblood girl attacked me, that is what happened”, Cygnus replied.

Lily thought she recognized the name, but her head was spinning, and she could hardly focus enough to place one foot in front of the other. Now walking along next to her, the goblin didn’t even look at Lily, but kept blankly staring at his tied hands.

The other man laughed, and Cygnus growled:

“She will pay for what she did.”

It sent a wave of anxiety rushing through her entire body, but Lily forced herself not to show it. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

From the parlour they stepped outside through a glass door and she was completely caught off guard by the scenery that presented itself to her. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it surely wasn’t string quartets, floating silver trays with champagne and masses of poshly dressed wizards and witches in expensive robes strolling through a garden lighted by faeries.

A couple of feet away, at the top of the stairs that led down to the garden stood a broad-shouldered wizard Lily was sure she’d seen somewhere before. He was pointing his wand to his throat and apparently in the middle of giving a speech to the knot of people that had formed beneath him.

“Now”, he said, and his voice sounded like ice.

“Let us demonstrate the superiority of our pure blood and the black magic we worship.”

Cygnus pushed her roughly in the back, which sent her stumbling towards the man with the cold voice. The latter moved to aim his wand at her and Lily felt how his spell turned her muscles limp, left her bones frozen in place.

There was a vicious smile playing about his lips.

Desperately searching for a way to escape, Lily turned her head to scan her surroundings. Her heart was beating in her throat as she let her gaze drift across the crowd of people. It was getting harder and harder to contain the panic.

There were numerous familiar faces, the kind of people she had known would take part in barbarities like this, Mulciber, Malfoy, Lestranges. Narcissa Black next to her fiancé with indifference painted on her pale features.

Her sister Bellatrix, that lunatic, who looked like she was about to pounce on Lily and tear her apart, limb by limb.

Regulus Black, somewhere to her left. He bore such an uncanny resemblance to his older brother that Lily found it difficult to tell them apart. Unlike his relatives though he wasn’t staring at Lily but seemed to be on his part looking for someone in the crowd.

They were all vultures, reptiles, carnivores. And she was just the appetiser, presented to them on a floating silver tray, a spectacle but nothing more.

A sudden pain went rushing through her veins and she whipped her head around to look at the wizard who was staring back at her with pale grey eyes. Somehow his expression had hardened as if he were angered that she’d let her gaze wander, looking for a way out, instead of trembling like a coward.

Despite the severity of the pain she felt, Lily defiantly turned her face away again – and almost cried out loud at the sight of who was standing right there below in the garden. Wide-eyed and mouth gaping, amidst all the rich pure-blood wizards in his patched hand-me-down robes.

_Severus._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Chapter 4 (this one is rather explicict):  
> torture, pain, discrimination, injuries, bloodloss, vomiting
> 
> Take care and stay safe!!

_summer of 1976_

(week one)

The word came across her lips before she could stop herself:

“ _You._ ”

It shouldn’t have been loud enough for him to hear, but apparently the grey-eyed wizard was still amplifying every word spoken at the top of the stairs.

Lily bared her teeth and, with all the fear and hate and grief she felt inside, spat at her childhood best friend:

“Traitor!”

Another wave of pain went through her body and she doubled up, unable to conceal her suffering any longer. After what felt like an eternity, Lily managed to pull herself back up again and as a precaution kept her eyes on the wizard that had her under his control.

She also didn’t think she could bear to see Severus standing with them, watching inactively, while she was being exhibited like a circus animal.

The wizard spoke to the crowd again, his sardonic smile had returned:

“It seems we have ourselves a rather insubordinate little main attraction.”

His words were met with many-voiced laughter and Lily felt her cheeks burning with shame and growing fury.

“As I mentioned earlier, I am aware many of you have come a long way to be entertained tonight. So, please, I am asking my children, my own as well as my kin’s, to be the first to honour our sacred traditions.”

An exhilarated murmur went through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see faces turning, the pure-bloods all twitching with anticipation.

Bellatrix Black was the first to step forward.

“I, Bellatrix Lestrange, the oldest daughter of Cygnus and Drusilla Black, will gladly be the first to pay tribute to our ancestors this _Lughnasadh_ ”, she proclaimed.

In the back of her head, Lily marvelled at the ridiculousness of the fact that she had apparently broken the Black sisters’ father’s nose with a random piece of wood she’d found in the corner of their dungeon.

But as Bellatrix, encouraged by the grey-eyed wizard’s benevolent nodding, stepped closer, all humour faded from her mind. Lily had had quarrels with the Slytherin before. She was notorious for her unhinged brutality and the variety of forbidden dark spells she was proficient in. Nevertheless, Lily was more than proficient in plenty of powerful spells herself, and she’d never been afraid of Bellatrix, not like many other Muggle-born students were.

Now, however, she was at her mercy, with her body partly frozen by the wizard’s spell and no way to defend herself. To Lily’s surprise though Bellatrix didn’t look as thrilled to publicly torment her as she would have thought.

Instead, she simply said: “Deprivation can take on many forms. I will therefore exemplify it by taking a piece of the Mudblood’s skin, symbolically for depriving her of her sense of touch.”

Lily felt her breath catch, but she barely had time to brace herself for the pain when the spell already hit her. It was blistering, red-hot agony, that shot through her right arm. Petrified, Lily could do nothing but watch as a rectangular patch of skin was systematically torn from her body.

The stench of burning flesh filled the air.

But she didn’t scream. Whatever it was, stubbornness, heroism, stupidity, something had overcome Lily the moment Bellatrix had raised her wand at her. Through clenched teeth, a low growl escaped her throat as the skin was removed from her arm and remained floating in the air in front of her.

From the crowd came cheering and overjoyed applause, and Bellatrix, without another look at Lily, turned to them and let the skin patch fly around with a swinging of her wand.

Lily didn’t dare to look at the part of her arm that was screaming with pain.

_They’re fucking insane_ , she thought. _Maniacs, the lot of them._

There was no relief from the searing pain and Lily was still unable to move, stunned by whatever spell the grey-eyed wizard had put on her.

The next person to step forward was Narcissa Black.

Her voice wasn’t as loud as her sister’s, but she spoke coolly and clearly, and without looking at Lily:

“As the youngest daughter of Cygnus and Drusilla Black, I, Narcissa Black, will be taking blood from the Mudblood, since impure blood has been used in medieval times for potions and poisons of many kinds.”

Unceremoniously, she twisted her wand and a horizontal cut spread on Lily’s other arm, blood instantly beginning to drop down her fingers. Compared to before, the pain was manageable though and Lily pushed her chin forward, confrontationally staring into the crowd.

He emerged from somewhere to her right, just as Narcissa retreated with a bow of her head.

Sirius Black, in dress robes and with his hair brushed and tied back looked so unlike himself that it took Lily a moment to fully comprehend it was truly him. For some reason, she felt her heart sink to her stomach as he approached.

It wasn’t that they were friends, they really weren’t, but rather that he, like her, was a Gryffindor. He was supposed to be on her side. She had heard him rant to James Potter about his “deranged family” in the common room just a couple of weeks ago, had seen him stand up for some second year Muggle-borns who had been cornered by Mulciber’s clique of Slytherins.

One look at his face however told Lily that he hadn’t come to help her tonight.

He looked completely disinterested in her unfortunate situation, and only briefly glanced at her, before focusing his attention on the grey-eyed wizard next to her.

“If you don’t mind, father”, he said almost sweetly, “I would like to go next.”

Something fell into place then, and Lily peered at the wizard that was standing at her side. Once you knew, the resemblance was unmistakable. They even had the same grey eyes.

Marlene had mentioned his name a while ago over one of those unsettling articles in the Daily Prophet.

“‘Orion Black speaks out for pure-blood wizard communities’”, she’d read out to Lily at the breakfast table.

“Merlin’s knickers, that’s Sirius’ father”, she had muttered. “These wankers are getting bolder every fucking day.”

Now, Orion Black, turned to his oldest son, his wand digging into the side of Lily’s throat.

Something significant had changed in his demeanour, he seemed infinitely more tense than when the two girls had performed their magic.

“What would you like to demonstrate?”, he asked.

There was a certain edge to his voice, but Sirius didn’t seem to notice.

“As heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, I, Sirius Orion Black, will be depriving the Mudblood of her voice, since her kind likes to use their words to lie and manipulate, tricking respectable wizards and witches into believing that scum like them could be our equals.”

The words came across his lip in an all but casual manner. Lily couldn’t believe her ears. His eyes were firmly fixed on his father, who hesitated for half a heartbeat before stepping aside and allowing Sirius to take his place at Lily’s side.

The tip of his wand caressed the skin over her larynx, and she could feel the pure-bloods in the crowd holding their breaths as he pulled it away again to circle his wrist; then softly put it back in place.

Lily would not beg. She would not yield, and she would not beg, and she would most definitely not ask him to have mercy.

Her mouth was parched, her breath shaky, but she made herself hold his gaze in spite of it. Up close, Lily noticed a cluster of faded bruises along his right temple, specks of pale green and light blue on ivory skin.

Sirius’ expression was unreadable, and Lily prepared herself for the pain.

Since he didn’t utter his spell out loud, the sensation hit her out of nowhere, it was like ice water running down her throat and flooding her lungs. Lily began to cough and when the feeling intensified, she felt herself retching, choking on the black magic that violated her body.

Eventually, after a long moment of agony, the piercing cold subsided, leaving her shaken and gasping for air.

Hoping against all odds that his spell had failed, Lily tried to speak, but although her vocal cords were vibrating, no sound left her mouth. She tried to scream, to whisper, to hum – nothing. All efforts proved to be in vain.

Sirius Black had successfully taken her voice from her.

It didn’t feel real. In a way, she half expected him to burst out laughing, expected his friends to appear from behind the corner, grinning like idiots, telling her this had all been one of their elaborate pranks. Expected to clear her throat and just like that be able to talk again.

But none of it happened. Instead, Lily, voiceless and exposed fought with all her power to break away from Orion Black’s curse that still kept her frozen in place. She needed to get away from this place, these people, needed to reverse the spell that had forcefully muted her, needed to escape.

“She was always terribly annoying with it too, this one”, Sirius said to his father. “Always up in everyone’s business, nagging and whining as if she were superior.”

He wrinkled his nose at her, as if she were some dirt he’d found stuck to the bottom side of his shoe. Whether it was with humiliation or hurt she couldn’t tell, but Lily felt tears welling up in her eyes. Furiously, she blinked them away, determined not to cry in front of them.

This was all getting too much.

From the bottom of the stairs, another figure had emerged. Sirius’ brother, looking like his slightly distorted reflection announced:

“As younger son of Orion and Walburga Black, I, Regulus Arcturus Black, will continue.”

Helplessly, Lily scanned the faces below for Severus, but he had vanished into the crowd.

_Traitor_ , she thought. _Bloody fucking coward._

Her entire body was shaking violently.

“I will be taking one of the Mudblood’s fingernails as our ancestors used to keep them as trophies”, Regulus declared as he walked up to where they were standing.

When he reached them, he swiftly bowed his head to his father and then turned to her, wand ready. Apparently eager to help, Sirius grabbed her arm, the one Narcissa had cut, and offered her immobilised hand to his brother.

Lily wanted to resist, wanted to put up a fight, be a Gryffindor and keep her head held high. But a numbness had spread through her limbs at Regulus’ words, and it was like she was watching him point his wand at her index finger from somewhere far, far away.

She hardly felt the curse he muttered, only saw the nail being ripped from her finger as if it were happening to someone else entirely and she was merely another spectator. The cheering from the crowd sounded muffled and even the excruciating pain in her right arm had become a dull ache, insignificant after all.

Why was the tip of Sirius’ wand digging into her back?

Blinking through the mist that had formed in front of her eyes, Lily tried to turn her head towards him, but her body was too heavy to move. She opened her mouth to ask a silent question. Nobody seemed to notice.

Regulus had secured his trophy and now all eyes were on him. Somehow, the sight of her fingernail floating in the air made her giggle like a little girl.

_This is what drugs must feel like_ , she thought, mildly amused.

There was a hand on her shoulder that hadn’t been there before, steady and gentle. Someone must have had put a sleeping spell on her, a powerful one too, Lily could feel herself slipping rapidly.

Just before everything went to black, she heard Sirius through the haze.

His voice was cruel and distant as he said:

“My apologies, it looks like this was all she could take. I suppose you should continue with the goblin instead…”

She jerked awake at once.

Sirius Black’s piercing grey eyes were only inches away from her face and Lily felt herself scream without making a sound. In an instant, the memories flooded back into her head, pain exploding in both of her arms and her left hand.

She tried to rob away from him but her back immediately collided with the wall.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered. “Really, I am. I just didn’t know how else I could get you out of there.”

Lily’s head was spinning, still partly under the influence of the sleeping spell, she supposed. It was difficult to understand what he was saying with the pain and the increasingly tight feeling in her chest. The world around her was cold and dark, the stone walls were closing in on her and there was still ice in her lungs, she was suffocating, unable to call for help.

Sirius grabbed her shoulder and hissed:

“Evans! Look at me, come on!”

Through the darkness, she could hardly make out his features. Lily blinked and blinked and still couldn’t see him properly, his face was a blurry shadow that floated in front of her, transparent like a ghost.

“Evans, please, I need you to listen to me, there’s not much time.”

It took all the willpower she could muster not to crawl away from him. Instead, she forced herself to inhale deeply and it was only when she managed to focus on her breathing that she realised she had been sobbing hysterically.

Slowly, her vision began to clear. Lily took another deep breath, pulled her arms and knees close to her chest and counted to ten before releasing it.

“Merlin fuck, I’m sorry”, Sirius breathed. His tone of voice was becoming increasingly desperate.

“Look, I’m going to get you away from here. Hopefully, they’re all still occupied for a while, so we’ll be able to sneak past them.”

As if he hadn’t been aware that he was still touching her, Sirius suddenly pulled his hand away from her shoulder to run it through his hair, completely destroying his hairdo in the process.

“I have a plan”, he promised with a glance towards the door.

They were back in her cell, Lily realised. And the shackles on her wrists were gone.

There were about three dozen questions swirling around in her head, but since she was unable to voice them, she reached for Sirius’ arm and demandingly pointed at her throat.

He cringed and said: “I know, I’m sorry. I needed to get close to you somehow without raising suspicions and that was the best way I could think of.”

Lily rolled her eyes and pulled at his sleeve, gesturing for him to reverse his spell.

“I can’t”, he muttered. Again, he turned to look at the door.

Without further ado, Lily dug her nails into his skin. Cursing under his breath, Sirius ripped his arm from her grip and snapped:

“I don’t think you really want me to try the counter-curse right now, Evans. It’s fucking hard and there’s no time, Reg will be down here any second and then we’ll have to hurry if we want to live, do you understand me?”

She felt bile rising in the back of her throat.

“Look”, he said, his voice a little softer than before, “I can try, if that’s what you want. But frankly, I’m scared I could permanently damage your vocal cords and James would probably decapitate me for that, so I’m only gonna try if you explicitly want me to.”

For a moment, Lily just held his gaze. Then, swallowing hard, she slowly shook her head.

Something like relief flickered in his face.

“Good. I already lost one friend this year, I can’t really afford to lose another”, he said.

With a glance at her injured arms, he added: “Though it already looks like I might.”

If she’d been able to speak, Lily would have told him what an unbelievably selfish arse he was. After all, he was the one who’d cursed her in the first place.

Before she could find a way to make her point non-verbally though, Sirius suddenly whipped around and rushed to the door, only for his shoulders to relax a moment later when Regulus appeared in the dim light. He barely looked at Lily, only pressed something into his brother’s hands.

“Where’s the cloak?”

Regulus frowned.

“No time, Aunt Drusilla interrupted me.”

“ _Merde_. Whatever, okay, just get to the stairs and be a lookout. If anyone tries to come down here just… stall”, Sirius instructed.

His brother merely shrugged and disappeared into the corridor.

Lily, still holding her wounded arms to her chest, gingerly got to her feet, resting her back against the wall. She felt a little dizzy from the movement and suspected that it might have something to do with the amount of blood she’d lost.

When he turned back to her, Sirius revealed a small silver mirror which, to Lily’s confusion, he held up to his face and said:

“James Potter.”

When nothing seemed to happen, he repeated, more urgently this time:

“James Potter! Come on, Prongs…”

Lily wished she’d had a voice to ask him what the fuck he was trying to do and why, if what he’d said before had been true, they weren’t just leaving.

Then, an all too familiar voice sounded from the mirror, echoing through the dungeon:

“What’s up mate?”

“Thank fuck, James, listen”, Sirius burst out, “I need you to do exactly as I say and not ask any questions, alright?”

Careful not to lose her balance, Lily made a couple of timid steps towards the other Gryffindor. 

The voice of the usually so infuriatingly unreasonable James Potter simply said:

“Okay.”

“Okay. I need you to get your parents and apparate to London in about ten minutes. Grimmauld Place. But don’t try to get into the house, it’s protected with all sorts of fucked up curses, just wait at the top of the street, okay?”

Lily made another three steps in Sirius’ direction and espied the reflection in the little mirror. Only that it wasn’t a reflection at all. Instead of the haunted pale complexion that should have been shown on the silver surface, a pair of warm brown eyes stared back at her, the bushy brows furrowed deeply.

The moment James Potter recognized her, his face went white with fear.

“Lily?”, he asked in disbelief. “What are you doing? Sirius, where are you, what the fuck happened?”

“No time”, Sirius replied. “London in ten minutes, James, alright?”

With another anxious glance at Lily, James pressed out:

“Okay.”

Sirius put the mirror away and then, without a warning, began undressing. When he noticed Lily backing away, he made a short bark-like laughing noise that didn’t sound very amused at all.

He offered her his dress robes and explained: “You will need to put this on. Otherwise they’ll recognize you immediately.”

Although Lily wasn’t entirely sure if she found his plan convincing, she took the robes and threw them on, all the while trying to shelter her wounds from the cloth. Sirius had discreetly turned his back to her in a weak attempt at giving her some privacy.

Now that the white shirt he’d been wearing under his robes was the only thing covering his back, she noticed three angry red welts shining through the thin material. A part of her wondered if they’d originated from the same wand that had held her frozen in place tonight.

Lily tipped him on the shoulder, and he turned around and looked her up and down, then grimaced.

“It’s gonna be fine”, he assured her, but she knew he was lying.

“Can you walk?”

Of course there was only one right answer. Lily nodded courageously.

Nevertheless, she allowed him to put his arm around her waist to steady and guide her as they hurried through the stone corridor. The spiral staircase was a bit of a challenge, but Lily gritted her teeth and pushed through, ignoring the growing pain that was pulsing through her arms.

Regulus Black was waiting at the top of the stairs. His face didn’t betray a thing and he silently walked along next to his brother until they had made it into the parlour.

“Don’t be stupid”, he said to Sirius.

“Go be the good son”, the latter replied.

Lily was thankful for the opportunity to catch her breath. Walking at Sirius’ speed was infinitely more exhausting than she had thought it would be. On top of that, the paralysing fear had crawled back under her skin as soon as they’d emerged from the basement.

The dress robes, which were way too big for her and hung over her shoulders like a cape, were the only thing that was supposed to stop the pure-bloods - who had just spent half of the evening staring at her - from recognizing her.

It truly was a shite plan. But in lack of a better option, Lily did everything she could to keep calm, to keep the panic at bay and to move as fast as she was able to.

While Regulus returned to the party through the same glass door Lily had been led through earlier, Sirius took her into another hallway and out through a different door, a little further from the tents and the happening.

“There’s a pavilion down the hill”, he told her quietly as they stumbled across the grass.

“I think we’ll be able to disapparate from there.”

Lily felt herself stop in her step and stare at him, completely and utterly stunned.

He wanted them to disapparate?! She had never even done Side-Along Apparition before, not to mention the real thing. They weren’t even supposed to know how to do it yet, in fact, they weren’t even _allowed_ to know.

_Mrs. Norris could have come up with a better plan._

“Look, I know it’s not optimal”, Sirius muttered. “But I’m positive it’s the only place on the grounds that’s not protected by spells, so we should be fine.”

Despite the fact she was still voiceless, Lily started to yell.

_What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you’re “positive”? Are you telling me there’s an Anti-Disapparition Jinx on this place? Do you even know how to properly disapparate? Have you ever done it before? Because I don’t know if you know this, but people regularly die horrible deaths because of splinching!_

From the expression on his face Lily knew he’d understood the gist of what she’d been saying. Sirius didn’t reply and almost forcefully put her arm over his shoulder and went on, half supporting, half carrying her.

He said:

“I’ve apparated before. From one side of my room to the other. Didn’t even lose a single hair.”

Which wasn’t comforting at all. She didn’t know much about apparition, but she knew that the bigger the distance one intended on crossing, the harder the actual magic got. Especially if he was going to carry her with him.

This far away from the building, the night was surprisingly dark, the nature around them seemed to become wilder and wilder the farther they strayed.

“The air is different down there”, Sirius continued as if that was all the explanation needed.

Lily wanted to keep protesting, but she found it increasingly hard to breathe. The world was blurring in front of her eyes and she had to focus all her attention on keeping herself upright.

She made it another five steps before her legs gave out.

Sirius cursed in French and knelt down next to her.

“We’re almost there”, her told her. “Can you get up?”

In spite of her best efforts, Lily could not.

“Alright, don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine. Just wrap your arms around my chest.”

Somewhere in the back of her head, she was aware that she was alone in a nightly garden with a barely clothed Sirius Black and he was asking her to hold on to him. Regardless of how ridiculous it made her feel, Lily did as she was told.

Sirius scooped her up into his arms and staggered on downhill until they finally reached the pavilion.

In the dark, all Lily could see were thornbushes and silhouettes of massive trees, that surrounded the overgrown building as if they were guardians, sheltering it from unfriendly gazes.

“Are you ready?”, asked Sirius.

He was panting, but his eyes were clear, and his voice was steady as he spoke.

Lily managed a weak nod.

“Okay”, he mumbled, “I got this. Destination, determination, deliberation.”

She had no idea what to expect. In the worst-case scenario, they’d both be ripped into shreds by the Anti-Disapparition Jinx. The even worse worst-case scenario would be getting caught by his father.

“You have to hold on tight for it to work”, he told her.

So, with all the strength Lily had left in her worn out body, she clung to him.

Sirius took a deep breath and next thing she knew, the world had turned into a swirl of colours and light. It was like how she imagined floating at the centre of a hurricane had to feel like, everything was spinning, her limbs were being pressed together, her teeth seemed about to break out of her jaw.

Then, it was over, just as suddenly as it had begun.

Lily crashed into the wooden floor of a dimly lit room, her elbows painfully colliding with the ground and immediately was sick all over the carpet in front of her. Apart from her stomach though, nothing else seemed to be amiss, all her limbs were still attached and the only pain she felt came from the wounds on her arms.

Once she’d stopped retching, Lily slowly raised her head to look around.

As far she could tell, they were in a bedroom in what must have been a very, very old house. The air was thick and layered with dust and something she couldn’t quite identify, the floor seemed to whine at every move she made.

Supressing a shiver, Lily realised what it was: The place felt hostile. Like every inch of it was protesting against her presence.

Sirius was still throwing up a couple of feet away. After a moment, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and scowled.

“I wanted us to land on the bed”, he said unhappily.

Lily couldn’t have cared less about whether or not he was satisfied with his aiming accuracy. She was still scanning her surroundings, the room was surprisingly tidy and everything about it screamed Gryffindor, the walls were covered in red and gold flags and there were several photos and cut-outs from Muggle magazines stuck to them. A moment too late she realized that this wasn’t just any room - it was Sirius’.

“Let’s get out of here before Kreacher finds us and goes into cardiac arrest.”

He offered her a hand to help her up and Lily had to grab it and lean on him in order to move at all. Together, they made it down the stairs unseen.

Like Sirius’s room, the rest of the house was barely lit, and they passed through too quickly for her to take note of the decorations. It was just the strange menacing feeling that remained. As if the house itself were a living thing that was all too aware of their intrusion.

They’d reached a door at the end of the hallway and Sirius had just placed his hand on the doorknob when a raspy voice from the shadows enquired:

“What is the young Master doing here? Is he not supposed to be with the Mistress and the Master?”

“Fuck, get out, Evans, get out”, Sirius hissed at her.

Never before had she heard him sound this panicked.

Lily could barely hold herself upright, but when he flung the door open and pushed her towards it, she managed to stumble outside of the house and into the street.

There, she overbalanced and suddenly found herself on her knees. The wounds on her arms were burning like fire and blood had been dripping down from them, now covering both her hands. It was hot and red and sticky on her skin.

Trembling, she turned back, expecting Sirius to have followed her.

Instead, she found the front door slammed shut and the longer she stared at it, the more the entire façade of the house seemed to fade away, disappearing in front of her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW Chapter 5:  
> injuries, blood, mentions of discrimination, mentions of abuse

_summer of 1976_

(week one)

James Potter was fidgeting.

His wand was loosely dangling in his right hand and he kept spinning it between his fingers while shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

 _Grimmauld Place in ten minutes_. That was what Sirius had said.

He let his gaze wander up and down the empty street, but the result was the same as it had been ten seconds ago. There was not a single soul to be seen.

Another glance at his mother told him that she, too, was beginning to worry.

James, now bouncing on his toes, scanned the street for a fifth time with his eyes. Then a sixth.

“Why aren’t they here yet?”, he asked into the silence, but neither of his parents replied.

He knew that if they did, they would have to acknowledge something was wrong. And if they did that… No, James couldn’t allow himself to think any further.

 _They’re coming_ , he told himself. _They’re on their way, they’re coming._

His father on his other side had started to shuffle his feet, just as impatient as his son. Potters weren’t made to sit still and wait for things to happen, and Fleamont, brilliant wizard that he was, was a potion-maker, an inventor, and not usually exposed to situation that required him to have his wand ready in his hand.

James knew his father was not one to run from a fight, a Gryffindor after all, but normally it was the fight that found him and not the other way around.

His mother on the other hand had remained calm, her attention focused on the street before them. He supposed as a Healer, she was used to keeping a cool head in stressful moments. On top of that, he knew that she’d worked with the Aurors before, so she had a fair share of experience with situations like this.

Whatever a situation like this was, exactly.

The image of Lily Evans, bleeding and disturbed behind Sirius in the mirror haunted his mind every time he closed his eyes, even if it was just to blink.

Why was she with him? Had they been attacked?

About 24 hours earlier, Sirius had used the mirror to check in with him, just as promised. It had been in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t unusual of him to call James at strange times, so he hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d been fine then, a little shaken maybe, but fine.

And James, who’d been terribly tired hadn’t even made an effort to put on his glasses. He’d just assumed that Sirius would tell him if something was wrong.

Given the fact that he hadn’t even mentioned his fucked up home situation until James had literally read his mind and stumbled across it by accident, that assumption had been pretty stupid of him.

Sure, the Blacks were notorious for their affinity for dark magic and James had known that his best friend wasn’t exactly on good terms with his parents, but it had only been when, while practicing their occlumency in third year, James had unintentionally found himself in one of Sirius’ more personal memories, that he had realised how bad things actually were.

He scanned the street for a seventh time. Nothing had changed.

Still, even if he should have been more thorough when checking up on Sirius, none of it explained what Lily had been doing there and why she had looked as if she’d been wrestling a hippogriff.

Something shifted in the atmosphere then.

It was hardly noticeable, but James could feel the way it tickled and made the thin hairs in the back of his neck stand. The air was more charged than it had been before.

Across his head, he could sense his parents exchanging a look and he knew that they’d noticed too.

The three Potters had been waiting at the top of the street, like Sirius had suggested. From there, the entirety of Grimmauld Place was clearly visible, but it was still farther away from number 12 than James felt comfortable with. After all, that was why Sirius had told them to come here, wasn’t it? Because this was where his childhood home was.

Acting on a strange intuition he suddenly felt in his gut, James murmured:

“I want to walk over to number 12. Just to take a closer look.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dear”, his mother said gently.

James turned to look at her and insisted:

“I’m not afraid. And I know it might be dangerous, but I don’t care, mum. A single person passing the house won’t raise any suspicions. I can handle myself.”

Euphemia grimaced and sighed with resignation.

“Just like your father”, she muttered to herself.

“I’m not asking for permission.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Fleamont put a hand on his shoulder and said:

“Just to take a look. No magic unless it’s to defend yourself, understood?”

“Remember, we’re right here with you. If anything happens, we’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

James nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

Slowly, one foot in front of the other, he began walking down the street. The houses were all old and grim, and not a single window was still illuminated. To him it felt like behind each glass in the darkness were a dozen prying eyes respectively, lurking, watching.

Supressing a shudder, he kept moving. The night air ruffled through his hair with a soft breeze that carried the smell of roses and gutter. James tightened his grip on his wand.

Ahead, he could now see the façade of number 13, and he felt his steps quicken – only to come to an abrupt halt when he spotted the number on the house next to it. Number 11.

Blinking in confusion, James looked back and forth between the two houses. There was a funny feeling in his stomach.

Where was number 12?

Sirius had mentioned that it was protected by a variety of spells, but surely it wasn’t completely hidden from view. What kind of paranoiac would hide an entire house from his fellow wizards and witches?

Perhaps they had made some kind of mistake and apparated to the wrong street. There was probably another Grimmauld Place on the other side of London, and Lily and Sirius were already waiting there, laughing at his stupidity.

Suddenly, the prickling sensation returned.

They had talked about it in Charms last year, about tracing magic and sharpening your sensitivity to its presence. Flitwick had explained that quite often, Muggle-born students were more proficient in it than those who’d grown up in the wizarding world, since they hadn’t gotten accustomed to it and their sense for it was still more heightened.

After that, Sirius and James had spent months randomly hexing each other, until they could both instinctively feel the magic approaching before it hit.

This felt just like that.

James continued walking until he was standing right where number 13 and number 11 met, precisely where number 12 should have been. Here, the air was thicker, and the breeze couldn’t seem to reach him anymore.

Something was moving there. Although he couldn’t see it, James somehow knew anyway, and he made another step towards where number 12 wasn’t, only to feel his entire body tingle, as if he were stroking a Thunderbird.

And there she was, right in front of him on the ground where before had only been asphalt and weeds.

Lily Evans was on her knees, shaking violently, her arms were hanging limply at her sides and blood was dripping down her fingers.

Without thinking, James lunged forward and reached her just as her body slumped. She collapsed against his chest, heavy and cold, and James heard himself call for his parents. His wand had slipped between his fingers and he was pressing his hands on the wounds from which the blood seemed to originate.

“You’re not dying”, he told her. “It’s all going to be fine, I got you.”

_Yourenotedyingyourenotdyingyourenotdying._

His heart was howling in his chest.

Lily didn’t respond. Her eyes had rolled back into her skull, but he could still feel her chest rising and falling.

“It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Where was Sirius? Was he injured too?

Careful not to release the pressure of his hands, James raised his head to look towards the houses. Sirius wasn’t there and he did not miraculously appear out of nowhere. Like the façade of number 12, he remained gone and James felt panic tightening his throat at the thought of what had happened to him, why he wasn’t here like he had said he’d be. Why Lily Evans was bleeding out in his arms.

Then, his mother was at his side, professionally examining the unconscious girl in his lap. He could see her lips moving, but his blood was rushing in his ears too loudly for him to understand what she was saying.

His father gently removed James’s bloody hands from Lily’s arms, and he struggled against him, unwilling to risk her losing more blood than she’d already had. But Fleamont was stronger than him and easily managed to pull his son away so that his wife could properly tend to the girl’s wounds.

With a familiar _pop_ , Euphemia and Lily vanished from the ground in front of them.

James couldn’t seem to think straight.

“Sirius”, he mumbled. “We have to wait for Sirius.”

Surely, he’d be here soon. There was no way that Lily had made it here on her own, he was probably just about to crash through the protection spells on number 12, alive and unharmed.

Pressing his eyes shut, James tried to focus on the sensation, the tickle he had felt earlier, but there was nothing.

“We have to wait for Sirius”, he said again as he realised his father was getting ready to disapparate as well.

Frantically, James began to fight against his father’s grip on his wrists, over and over repeating that they had to wait, that they couldn’t just leave without him, they had to wait for Sirius.

His father didn’t listen. He simply tightened his grip and disapparated, pulling James along into whirlwind of colours and lights.

“It’s not just the superficial wounds that I’m worried about.”

James couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from where Lily was lying on her back, thin and fragile. Her arms and one of her fingers were wrapped with white bandages.

They’d put Lily in the guest room. Sirius’ room. A blanket was covering most of her body and her untamed red curls were splattered across the pillow like a fiery halo.

His mother had spent over an hour treating her injuries. Ever since James and his father had apparated back to the living room, James had not dared to leave Lily’s side, clutching her uninjured hand, crazy with fear - until his mother had eventually banned him from the room.

Now, Euphemia was wearily leaning against the wooden drawer.

“It looks like her body was exposed to severe distress. There are traces of dark magic everywhere”, she continued.

James swallowed hard.

“She hasn’t woken up?”, he asked stupidly.

“She’s going to make it, dear”, his mother said, but he could still hear the worry in her voice.

“But is she going to be fine?”, James kept pushing.

When he didn’t get an immediate reply, his stomach twisted painfully. Finally, he managed to look away from the unconscious girl in his best friend’s bed and to his mother. Her fingers were red and bloody too.

“From what I can tell, yes. But I can’t promise anything, Jamie. Some of the spells I detected were advanced, complicated black magic and there might be repercussions that are impossible to predict.”

“We should send an owl to her family. Her parents. She has a sister too, but they don’t get along. But she’ll still be concerned, won’t she? I mean, surely she can’t be that much of an asshole.”

He contemplated for a moment and realised: “Wait, her parents are muggles though. But they still know how owls work, right? Well, not as animals but as messengers. What if they don’t get our letter? We would have to find a Pheletone…”

Euphemia gently brushed a hand through his messy hair.

“You’re rambling, Jamie”, she said with a tired smile. “Again.”

Supressing a cringe, James mumbled something about his E in Muggle Studies and his mother sighed.

Then she asked: “Any news from Sirius?”

After she’d thrown him out of the guest room because of his nervous word-vomiting, James had sat on the floor in the hallway and stared into the two-way mirror. He’d spent the excruciating hour of waiting repeating Sirius’ name in every variation he could think of, but nothing had happened. Only his own reflection, forehead wrinkled and eyes dark with concern had silently looked back at him.

James shook his head, and his mother muttered a curse under her breath. He’d never heard her curse like that before.

“He’s gonna be fine”, he said, more to comfort himself than anything else.

“It’s Sirius. He always manages to somehow make it out alive.”

_He’s fine. He has to be._

Despite the fatigue he felt in every inch of his body, James positioned himself in an uncomfortable wooden chair at Lily’s bedside, determined to be with her when she’d wake up. His parents, knowing it would have been a waste of breath, didn’t even try to convince him otherwise. Fleamont had sent Ulli the family owl with a brief message to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, and when the first rays of sun peeked in through the thin curtains, both of his parents had just retreated to their bedroom.

The two-way mirror was lying in his lap, but even as the morning came and went no hushed voice whispered his name and the only face that appeared in the silver surface was his own.

Lily, too, remained quiet and unmoving. He wanted to take her uninjured hand in his but didn’t dare to, afraid she’d find it invasive. Instead, James just studied her sleeping face and tried not to think about the way she’d collapsed against him, so lifeless and pale and covered in her own blood.

Hours went by and the sun became bolder with every minute, creeping into the room and warming his face. In the soft yellow light, Lily’s curls seemed to have transformed into strands of living flames that danced around her head and across the white pillow-sheet.

For the millionth time, James peered at the mirror and murmured: “Sirius Black.”

The reflection didn’t change, but suddenly, there was a hand on the crook of his arm. He jumped so hard, the mirror fell and skittered across the floor with a _clash_.

“Merlin’s bloody boxers!”

Awake and responsive, Lily looked at him with inimitably striking green eyes. They were even more captivating than he’d remembered.

She had pulled her hand back when he’d jerked, and now she seemed to be examining the room, her lips moved and parted, but she didn’t speak.

James, who, now that the initial fright had worn off, felt his veins flood with relief, awkwardly stood up from his chair and said:

“Finally! You had me worried there for a moment, Evans. How are you feeling? What happened?”

Then, he abruptly and very consciously shut his mouth to avoid further embarrassing himself by rambling like an idiot.

Again, she soundlessly moved her lips. Something flickered across her face.

“It’s okay,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “take your time. You’re safe here. Mum took care of your wounds too. There’s no need to rush.”

But Lily didn’t seem to believe him. She tried to sit up and waved her hands at him, pointing to her mouth and shaking her head, her expression familiarly exasperated.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

She rolled her eyes and gestured even more agitatedly. Slowly, it began to dawn on him.

“You… You can’t talk?”, James asked.

Lily nodded. Her bottom lip was quivering, but she didn’t look like she was about to burst into tears. Rather, like she could blow up an entire building just by setting her eyes on it.

“Did someone hex you?”

Again, she nodded. Her lips moved and although her voice was still non-existent, James understood what she was trying to say.

“Sirius”, he observed.

“Wait, Sirius hexed you? What happened? Why would he do that? Why wasn’t he with you?”

Accompanied by wild gestures and expressions, Lily replied, but the words were formed too rapidly for him to read her lips.

“Right”, he mumbled, “that’s not gonna work. But don’t worry, Evans, my mum’s a Healer, I’m sure she’ll know what to do.”

Euphemia Potter however, faced with the missing-voice-obstacle, just shook her head.

“I’m so sorry, love”, she said to a frustrated looking Lily Evans.

“This is advanced dark magic. I can try to mend it, but only the counter-curse can fully restore your ability to speak. And I’m afraid I’m not even sure I know how to identify the curse that was used to take your voice in the first place.”

She had started to systematically examine Lily’s injuries with skilled, gentle hands and gave the girl an apologetic smile. James was waiting on the other side of the room to give them some privacy and he could feel his heart sink into his stomach at his mother’s words.

“I will try of course”, she continued.

“And when we manage to contact Sirius, I’m certain he’ll be able to help. But until then I believe it’s wisest if I do some research before making any attempts, I don’t want to make the situation worse. Black magic like that can be rather unpredictable.”

Euphemia gave Lily an encouraging smile.

“I promise, I will find a way to reverse that spell, one way or another.”

He watched Lily smile back at his mother timidly.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Bee could help!”, James burst out. “She told me, she can do lip-reading!”

The two women both turned to him, his mother looking mildly surprised and Lily with her brows furrowed in confusion.

Unable to restrain himself, he rattled on:

“Bee’s our house-elf – well, technically she was our house-elf until dad set her free, but she still lives on the grounds and helps around the house and everything. She’s amazing and I’m sure she’d help. And she can lip-read, she told me it used to help her a lot when she was still an actual house-elf – and of course it helps to find out all the gossip about everyone and everything. Bee really loves to gossip. One time she told me about that wizard family one of her friends belonged to and –“

“That sounds wonderful”, his mother interrupted softly. “James, darling, go and ask her, will you?”

Lily was staring at him with a strange expression on her face and he felt his cheeks flush red, so he quickly mumbled his agreement and hurried out of the room before he could say anything more.

Bee lived in a small hut outside of the Potter Estate where she freely and excessively pursued her two dearest passions: Wizard gossip and Quidditch.

She had been his Grandparents’ house-elf and passed on to Fleamont upon their death, who had gladly freed her. His father didn’t believe in the backwards traditions most pure-bloods relished, he advocated progress and a rather experimental lifestyle. The latter had only changed when Euphemia had turned out to be pregnant.

James knew all about his father’s endeavours and his parents’ shared travels and adventures. They had decided to settle at the Potter Estate when he’d been born and Bee, who had been living there all her life, had been as much of a part of James’ childhood as Euphemia and Fleamont.

He burst into the hut without bothering to knock and immediately announced:

“I need your help.”

Bee was standing in front of a kettle, stirring something indistinguishable that smelled like sweaty socks and horses. James had never really understood how house-elf magic worked exactly. She was wearing a Holyhead Harpies jersey that he had shrunk for her to be size-appropriate.

“Little Master Jamie is not being very polite”, she scolded him.

Her bright blue eyes had an intelligent yet playful sparkle and despite her reprehensive tone she was smiling. When he’d been younger, they had had little prank wars between the two of them and, much to his parents’ dismay even teamed up once or twice to pull more elaborate pranks on them.

“I need your help”, he repeated. “It’s urgent.”

“Has little Master Jamie gotten himself into trouble again?”

“No, Bee, listen. It’s Lily, she’s here, she’s been attacked, or at least I think they were attacked, and she can’t use her voice. Sirius apparently cursed her or something.”

“Master Sirius hexed the fire-headed angel? Well, if that isn’t something.”

Bee stepped away from her kettle and wiped her tiny hands on her shirt.

“You cannot call her that to her face!”

She grinned mischievously.

“Bee can’t promise that. She’s gotten old, Master Jamie will have to forgive her if she slips up.”

“Bee!”

He had made the mistake of gushing over Lily to her one too many times and Bee loved to tease him about it. Things always got especially awful whenever Sirius was over. It had taken the two of them quite a while to get accustomed to each other, but now that they’d reconciled their differences, it had become their favourite pastime to mock James in the most ruthless ways possible. They were quite the team at that.

“Alright, alright. How can poor old Bee be of assistance?”, she asked peaceably.

“I need you to lip-read so she can tell us what happened. Sirius might be in danger.”

James watched carefully as the house-elf contemplated. After a moment, Bee sighed:

“Fine. Bee will help.”

Lily was hunched over a bowl of oatmeal when he returned to the guest room, Bee not far behind him. She raised her head and gave the little house-elf a friendly smile. Bee smiled back at her and James quietly thanked Merlin, Morgana and whoever else there was that she didn’t greet her with “fire-headed angel”.

“Lily – Bee, Bee – Lily”, he introduced them to each other.

Bee climbed onto the bed and sat down, letting her short legs dangle down the side.

“Miss Lily will have to say something for Bee to translate”, the house-elf pointed out when no one else said anything.

“Right." 

James cleared his throat. He realised that he’d just called her Lily, not Evans, but quickly pushed the thought aside.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

And so, she did.

It was a rather odd way of communicating and James tried his best to read her lips himself, but even if he sometimes caught snippets of her sentences, it was by far not enough. Bee was brilliant though and she dutifully repeated every word Lily said, mostly without adding commentary of her own. At some point James dropped down on his chair again, not trusting his legs enough to carry him.

Lily looked terribly small in the middle of the bed, trembling quietly. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the world, this cruel, horrible world in which wizards and witches killed and tortured one another for no reason other than their own delusion. But again, he didn’t dare to.

After a long moment, he choked out: “I’m so sorry. Really, I’m so so sorry.”

She gave him a weak smile in response.

Even Bee appeared to be shocked by Lily’s story, she grabbed her uninjured hand and squeezed it and Lily made a sniffing noise, turning her head away.

It took a minute for the whole thing to sink in.

James put his head in his hands and tried to imagine what had been happening in Sirius’ head, tried to follow his thought process. He’d played along in front of his family and then knocked Lily out with a sleeping charm, and disapparated with her. But why apparate to Grimmauld Place? Why ask James to bring his parents there if he could have just as well apparated anywhere else where no one would have been able to follow or find them?

 _It’s Regulus_ , he realised. _That git is still scared to leave his baby brother behind._

While in theory the sentiment surely was heart-warming, James couldn’t help but curse his best friend for his stupidity, his self-destructive, blind loyalty to those he loved.

_He never planned to escape with Lily. That’s why he called me to London, he would have gone back even if Kreacher hadn’t seen them._

And all of it for Regulus, who had not once lifted a single finger to defend his brother from their manic parents.

An idea crossed James’ mind then, and he jumped up from the chair and hurried to pick up the two-way mirror that was still lying on the floor where it had landed earlier. Luckily, the surface hadn’t been damaged by the impact.

Maybe, if he couldn’t reach Sirius himself, he could at least talk to someone who might know about his whereabouts.

James held it up in the air in front of him and declared: “Regulus Black.”

The face that looked back at him was his own, brown eyes, brown skin, black hair. 

“Miss Lily is wondering what Master Jamie is doing”, said Bee. Then, she added:

“Frankly, so is Bee.”

But James didn’t respond. Instead, he said again, even more urgently this time:

“Regulus Arcturus Black!”

Nothing.

He was just about to throw the stupid mirror back to the ground, when something light flashed across the surface, only visible for a split second at first, until it reappeared a moment later.

James stared at the mirror in disbelief.

A pair of piercing grey eyes was staring right back at him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Chapter 6:  
> mentioned/implied child abuse, blood, injuries

_summer of 1976_

(week two)

He hadn’t written to Remus yet.

Five days since he’d last heard from Sirius and he hadn’t written to Remus yet.

James wasn’t even really sure why - he’d told Peter after all - but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Remus that Sirius was missing. Whatever it was between the two of them, it was different from the rest of their friendships, something tight and charged and dangerous. In all honesty, it frightened James. He didn’t quite know what to do about it.

Either Remus would be worried sick or, even worse, he would hardly care.

At this point, he couldn’t tell if his two friends liked each other too little or too much.

Lily had been staying with them for five days now too, another thing about which James didn’t know what he was supposed to feel.

They spent most days together in the garden, Lily resting like a cat in the sun, and him sitting at her side like a guard dog, afraid to let her out of his sight for even a minute. The two-way mirror was always in his hand, on the off chance that Regulus, Sirius, _someone_ might appear and tell him what was going on.

In his head, James was constantly battling an impertinent little voice that liked to taunt him with intrusive thoughts.

 _He’s probably dead already_ , it murmured. _And if not, they’ve broken him beyond repair._

Regulus hadn’t said a word.

He was certain he’d seen him in the mirror, those eyes so like his brother’s everyone always had trouble distinguishing between them. But James knew, with all his heart that it had been Regulus. Sirius had never once in his life managed to school his features into this impenetrable kind of neutrality.

Still, the face had been gone again without a word and James had been left dumbfounded.

Why did Regulus have the mirror? Where was Sirius?

_Damaged. Disfigured. Dead._

James violently shook his head to lose the images that formed in his mind.

From where she was lying in the grass next to him, Lily gave him an enquiring look.

Shrugging, he admitted:

“I keep thinking about what they’re doing to him.”

A shadow came over her pretty face and she reached to squeeze his hand. Since Bee had, despite her sympathy for Lily, decided she could not spend every waking moment at her side, his father had charmed a quill, some ink and a piece of parchment to write down for her whatever Lily wanted to say.

It was an imperfect solution since the quill kept skipping and misspelling words and sometimes the ink would disappear before James could finish reading, but it was better than nothing.

 _I’m sorry_ , the parchment said. _I feel guilty for leaving him behind._

“You shouldn’t”, James objected. “It was his decision to go back. And bringing Sirius round is not a talent many people possess.”

Her lips curled into a humourless smile and James’ heart attempted a backflip inside his chest.

“I just hate feeling so helpless. Like, I wish there was something I could do.”

_I don’t think he’d want you getting anywhere near those people._

James frowned and muttered: “I know. That bastard.”

Then, he added with emphasis:

“If I ever get face to face with Orion Black, I’m going to put a bludger through his swivel-eyed head and cut him open like a fucking pumpkin until he begs to snog a dementor.”

Lily turned her head away and for a second he thought he’d scared her away, had destroyed the fragile trust they seemed to have created in the past few days. Truthfully, he was shocked at his own words, the vehemency with which he’d spoken. He was just about to apologize when he realised that her body was vibrating with silent, supressed laughter.

The ink on the parchment read: _He would deserve it._

“Merlin, you’re cold, Evans”, he chuckled. And to himself he thought how much he missed to hear her voice. Even if it was just her telling him to piss off. She always made it sound so charming.

After his mother had treated the wounds on her arms, they had healed completely within the next two days, but James knew that she was still weakened by the aftermath of the dark magic she’d been exposed to. Not to mention the psychological trauma.

Her missing fingernail had only grown back slowly. Nevertheless, Lily had shown off the grotesque looking stump to him delightedly – apparently Bee had told her how he was easily freaked out by finger-related injuries. He still wasn’t over the Incident of 1972, when three of his fingers had snapped during his first Hogwarts Quidditch match as he tried to catch the quaffle.

The Potters had all insisted that she could stay as long as she felt comfortable and that she really shouldn’t leave the estate until she hadn’t recovered fully. What they’d left unsaid was the potential danger Lily could find herself still in if she returned to Cokeworth too hastily. After all, these maniacs knew where she lived and had managed to kidnap her once already.

James hated the thought of her ever going back there, although he was aware that she surely wouldn’t remain with them forever. He had no doubt that Lily had considered the risk and would be willing to brave it but had decided to stay for another reason entirely. Namely, guilt.

As long as none of them knew what had happened to Sirius, it felt like they were all caught in a bubble, huddled together and ready for the burst at all times. Even brief moments of distraction felt like betrayal when he was most likely suffering, trapped somewhere out of their reach.

His parents had done everything in their power to get in contact with the Blacks, but to no avail. Grimmauld Place was unapproachable – so much that James sometimes seemed to forget it was a real place. To him, it felt so distant and improbable that it just as much could have been some phantasy location out of a ghost story.

However, they hadn’t dared to contact the Aurors.

Everyone knew the Ministry liked to favour powerful pure-blood families just like everyone knew the Blacks were the most powerful, most pure-blooded family there was. On top of that, James didn’t want to imagine what they would do to Sirius if the Aurors knocked at their door to ask if they’d been involved in any illegal activities.

Assuming that the Ministry still considered kidnapping, torture and child abuse illegal. Looking at the news, he sometimes wondered if there were even any wizards left in politics and law enforcement who still cared for equality and justice.

That night, when he was sitting in his bed, James held the mirror up to his face again and whispered Sirius’ name. As expected, nothing happened and he sighed, repositioning his glasses with his free hand.

“Fine”, he muttered to himself. “Let’s try the other one. Regulus Black.”

But no pair of cool grey eyes appeared in the reflection.

“Listen, mate, if you can hear me, please just let me know what’s going on. I need to know he’s alive. I need to know what happened. I know you have the mirror. I saw you. Just talk to me, Regulus, please.”

In the silence that succeeded his frantically uttered words, James shuddered and covered his face with his hands. The tears that followed were quiet and unnoticed by the rest of the world.

The next day, they were sitting on the old swing in the back of the garden, lazily moving back and forth. Bee had made them biscuits and tea and had handed the tray to James along with the clarification that these were exceptional circumstances, and he was not to get used to the pampering.

Lily had made fun of him for adding three spoons of sugar to his cup, but in such an amiable way that he hadn’t minded at all. Slowly, her eyes were beginning to shine again, and pain and exhaustion had almost vanished from her gaze. She was wearing his mother’s clothes which were several sizes too big for her and colourful in a way that didn’t go well with her messy red curls at all. To him, she was more beautiful than ever.

In the distance, there was the faint sound of his father’s experiments, and from time to time they could see blue smoke coming out of the windows on the second floor where Fleamont’s potion lab was located. He knew that it was just his father’s way of dealing with unpleasant situations, like being helpless and waiting for news.

They all had their own methods, Bee baked, his father made things explode and Euphemia, brows constantly furrowed deeply with concern, dove into whatever work there was for her to do. At the moment, she was reading through every book on curses that affect the vocal cords she could get her hands on. The entire living room seemed to have been transformed into a library.

James himself wasn’t really sure what his preferred coping mechanism was. He wasn’t used to being inactive, usually at Hogwarts there was always something to be done, some prank to be planned, some Quidditch to be played, some friends to be comforted. Then again, usually, his best friend wasn’t missing and the girl he’d been in love with since second year hadn’t been brutally tortured and mutilated.

Surprisingly – or maybe not surprisingly at all – Lily was by far the calmest of them all. Although she was the one who had been, over the span of two days, kidnapped, imprisoned, publicly tormented, and apparated across half England by an inexperienced sixteen-year-old, and although they still weren’t one step closer to restoring her voice, she still appeared to be collected and composed.

Her head was rested against the chain of the swing as she peered at him from the side and caught him watching her. James immediately felt his cheeks flush red, he cleared his throat and quickly turned his eyes away, blinking against the sun.

To his surprise, Lily pinched his arm and offered the parchment to him. The ink on it was fresh and wet:

_Thanks for being decent and coming to my rescue._

He allowed his eyes to turn back to her and shrugged.

“Anyone would have done it.”

But Lily, suddenly looking less at peace than just a moment ago, shook her head and grabbed the parchment from his hands. James awkwardly pushed his glasses back up his nose as he waited for her to give it back to him. It said:

_Severus was there. At the Manor. And he didn’t even try to help me._

Something cold seemed to fill his stomach at that, swiftly spreading all the way up his spine. His mouth was so dry he could barely speak.

“You didn’t say…”, he mumbled.

Lily held his gaze. The hurt in her expression was tangible, and he understood that this perfidy was so grand and horrible it was tearing at her very insides.

 _The ultimate betrayal_ , he thought.

James couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would feel if any of his closest friends, the people he trusted most in this world did anything remotely as traitorous.

“I’m so sorry”, he said. “That oily fucking piece of rubbish. What kind of person does that?”

It was impossible to contain his anger. If at first cold, it was now coursing through his veins boiling hot and James burst out:

“What kind of person does that to a _friend_?”

He knew in an instant that he’d said too much, Lily turned away from him, but he could see her shoulders trembling, nevertheless. Hesitantly, he stretched his hand out to touch her back, to comfort her, still afraid to overstep and hurt her even more.

“I didn’t mean to… Look, I didn’t mean to make it worse, I’m sorry.”

His words were as unregulated as ever.

“He’s just such an unbelievable prick and you deserve so much better than a best friend that can’t even bother to stand up for you. Honestly, it’s creepy how much he says he loves you but how little he actually does to prove it.”

James winced.

“Sorry.”

He looked down to find that the writing on the parchment in his hand had changed.

_I feel so stupid for ever trusting him. I should have known better._

There had been something else there, but it had disappeared before James could read it.

“You couldn’t have known”, he pressed out.

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? You can’t know what kind of person someone will become, especially in times like these, you can never know for sure. I think that’s what makes it so bloody scary, that maybe in a couple of years the people we sit next to in class now are the ones that are trying to kill us. But you just can’t know these things before they happen, you can’t expect yourself to know that shit, Evans. Well, if you were a seer, maybe you’d be supposed to know how things turn out in the future, but as far as I remember you’re not exactly exceeding expectations in divination class.”

His thoughts were drifting off and so James paused to take a breath.

“You have every right to feel hurt, Evans, believe me, I can’t imagine what it must be like… But I don’t think you should blame yourself. It’s not your fault he’s a piece of shite.”

 _I know_ , it said on the parchment. _It just hurts. A lot._

James replied: “I believe that. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

She turned back to him and shook her head. Although he could see that her eyes were slightly red and swollen, there was still a small smile playing about her lips.

“Alright. If you wanted to though, I could start a rumour about his very passionate, very sexual relationship with Professor Slughorn and how I walked in on them and have been traumatised ever since by the sight of his miniature todger.”

As if against her will, the smile grew wider.

_Please don’t. I don’t want to think about his manhood ever again, thank you very much._

Snorting laughter, James raised his hands, as if to signal his surrender.

“Just remember that it’s a possibility. I’m sure Sirius could come up with even more colourful images…”

His voice trailed off and he instinctively glanced at the two-way mirror in his hand. Nothing. On the parchment, the ink had spelled:

_How did you get that mirror?_

Lily was watching him with sympathy in her extraordinary eyes.

“I bought it, two years ago I think, as a birthday present to Sirius. Originally, we only used it to chat when we were having detention in different rooms, but it turned out to be pretty useful for other stuff too. Like keeping in touch during the summer.”

The sigh came across his lips before he could stop himself.

“I always knew they were bad people. His entire family, completely fucked in the head, and the way they treat him… I should have done something sooner. I should have done something.”

It sounded very quiet and defeated, and lingered in the air, until another explosion from the house disrupted the moment. James blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes and read:

_It’s just like you said. You couldn’t have known things would escalate like this._

“Ah”, he said, “very wise of you, Evans. Using my own words against me.”

_Don’t flatter yourself, Potter._

When he looked up at her, she was still smiling back at him.

(week three)

It had become his own personal ritual.

Every night, after everyone had gone to sleep, James sat at the edge of his bed and demanded answers from the mirror in his hand. The first two nights, he’d still been hoping to get a reply. After the fourth, the only reason he kept doing it was the fact there was no other option. If he stopped trying that would mean he’d be giving up.

And James Potter did not give up on his friends.

It had been thirteen days since he’d last heard from Sirius, thirteen days since they’d gone to London and found a dying Lily Evans in the street. Thirteen days and he still hadn’t written to Remus.

He announced the names to the empty room, Sirius’ first, then Regulus’. Despite everything, he still felt himself hold his breath as he waited for some sort of reaction, only to be disappointed inevitably.

The voice in his head whispered: _He’s been dead for weeks._

“No. He’s not dead. He is not.”

Tomorrow they would get the Ministry involved. This had all gone on for far too long already and there was no indication that anything about the situation would change in the foreseeable future. So, they had decided at dinner that they had to risk it.

James furiously wiped his face and snarled at the mirror:

“I’m not asking for much here, alright. It’s not like you ever did a fucking thing for him, while he sacrificed himself for you over and over again. I know. I’ve seen it in his head. So, for Merlin’s sake, Regulus, say fucking something. He loves you and you know it. Don’t just sit by and watch them kill him!”

There was much more he wanted to say, but his voice failed him.

It was pointless anyway. Regulus wasn’t listening.

With a frustrated groan, James tossed the mirror aside and put his head in his hands.

He’d write to Remus in the morning. The next full moon was approaching and so he would find out soon enough anyway, the least James could do was to have the guts to tell him about everything himself.

“Listen, Potter, I don’t have much time.”

At first, he thought he’d imagined it, the muffled voice that ripped through the silence of his room. Then, it spoke again:

“Can you hear me?”

James lunged across the mattress to grab the mirror and look inside. Regulus Black, his features dangerously sharp, appeared in the silver surface, looking more like the shadow of a person than an actual human being.

“Where’s Sirius?”, James choked out.

The younger boy glanced away and something strange flickered in his face.

“What is it? What happened? Is he alright?”

It was as good as impossible to stop himself from pushing further, but James managed to shut his mouth. His fingers were drumming against the back of the mirror restlessly.

After a moment that easily could have been an eternity, Regulus said vaguely:

“He’s alive. For now.”

A shiver like ice tickled down James’ back.

“What do you mean? Where is he? How do we get him out?”

“We don’t.”

“What do you mean we don’t? I’m not just letting him die!”

“Listen”, Regulus snapped.

Somewhere in the back of his head James wondered if he’d ever heard him express this much emotion before.

“ _We_ can’t do anything. There is nothing you can do. And don’t even think about going to the Aurors.”

Then, as if to himself, he added: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

James opened his mouth to protest, but Regulus ignored him and went on:

“I’m getting him out tonight. I’ll send him to you, but if he doesn’t make it, _find him._ ”

“Okay”, James heard himself say. But apparently that wasn’t enough for Regulus Black.

His voice hard as stone, he insisted: “Promise me. Promise me you’ll find him.”

“I promise.”

The words crossed his lips automatically. Of course he would find him.

And just as suddenly as he’d appeared, Regulus was gone again and James found his own eyes, dark and widened with fear in the reflection.

 _Tonight_ , he realised _. He said he’s getting him out tonight._

All at once, all exhaustion had vanished from James’ body. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his wand and dashed down the stairs, it didn’t matter if he woke the entire house.

Sirius was alive. He was alive and he would soon be free.

James stopped in front of the guest room to knock at the door, impatiently fumbling with his wand as he waited for Lily to let him in. It took several agonizingly long minutes until her face finally appeared in front of him. She looked sleepy and her hair was a tangled mess but when he told her what had happened, her eyes lit up nevertheless and she quickly gestured for him to come inside.

“I don’t even know if we can trust him”, said James as he closed the door behind him.

Now that the initial exhilaration had worn off, doubts were beginning to creep up on him.

“What if he’s lying? What if he’s stalling for them and just doesn’t wants us to contact the Ministry?”

He was pacing and waving his wand around as he spoke. Lily reached for his wrist and stopped him in his tracks, her grip was unexpectedly firm and somewhat steadied him in his panic. The parchment in her hand read:

_You’re not making any sense. If he wanted to stall, he wouldn’t have told you that he’s trying to get him out tonight. And he certainly wouldn’t have told you to find him._

James swallowed and said quietly: “He made me promise. It sounded like he was desperate.”

_Exactly my point. There would have been much easier ways to keep us from contacting the Aurors. Besides, Regulus couldn’t have known that your parents decided to go to the Ministry tomorrow._

“Coincidence?”, he asked weakly.

Lily shrugged, but her gaze was unwavering.

_Remember, he helped us escape from the Manor. And Sirius trusts him._

He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled slowly.

“I know. Okay. Suppose Regulus is telling the truth, what do we do?”

_We wake your parents. He’s probably either going to use floopowder, a portkey, or apparate. So, we split up, someone stays at the house, the others search the surrounding area._

Their eyes met across the parchment and James found his own stubborn determination reflected in hers.

_We find him._

Euphemia and Fleamont weren’t the kind of parents that dismissed their son’s thoughts and ideas without listening to them. When James had been about eight years old, he had spent hours telling them stories he had made up, nonsensical ones that must have been impossible to follow, but not once had either of them discouraged him by cutting him off. They had always listened to everything he had to say, every Quidditch rant and every gushing story about his undying love for Lily, every retelling of the adventures he and his friends had had at Hogwarts that year.

Now, they listened too.

It was decided that Lily and Bee should remain at the house to monitor the fireplace, while the Potters would each scan a third of the grounds. Every half hour, Bee would apparate and check in with all of them. Lily didn’t seem particularly happy to be limited to waiting at the house, but she didn’t object. After all, she had no wand, and her body was still healing. Still, James couldn’t blame her for being upset.

He was supposed to search the back of the gardens, probably because his parents agreed that Sirius was least likely to show up there. Dutifully, James checked every inch of his third of the area, and as soon as he was done, he turned to repeat his examination all over again. And again. And again.

Hours passed. Bee apparated and disapparated. No news of Sirius.

The mirror in his hand was silent.

Soon, the sun rose behind the trees and steadily crawled its way up the sky, until it was way past morning. James’ stomach was growling, and his eyes were dangerously close to staying shut every time he blinked, but he could not allow himself to give in to it.

 _Find him_ , Regulus’ voice echoed in his head.

“I’m trying”, he muttered to himself.

With a longing glance towards the house, James returned to his route, he could walk along his own footsteps in the wet grass. It was hard to stay alert, after moving back and forth on the same path for endless hours. The thought of collapsing into his warm, soft bed, which was waiting for him inside the house made his chin sink towards his chest.

There was a sound like rustling leaves from somewhere to his left.

Abruptly, James was jolted out of his doze.

His wand ready in his hand, he moved to peer behind a large oak tree, from where the noise had come. Maybe it was just a squirrel and he was being paranoid.

Then, he heard the whimper, like an animal in pain.

James crashed through the bushes that were blocking his way and came to a stumbling halt in front of the huge black dog that stood just a couple of feet away. His legs were shaking, his fur was wet and dark in some patches, and something about his posture wasn’t right at all. But he was there.

He was alive.

“Padfoot”, James whispered under his breath.

The dog looked at him with large, pleading eyes, and collapsed onto the ground, his torso going completely still. With a supressed sob, James almost tripped over his own feet as he hurried to his best friend’s side, dropped down on his knees and reached with his hands to search for a pulse. But when his fingers dug into the fur, a shudder went through the dog’s body and it contorted under his touch, until it wasn’t the body of a dog at all.

Sirius Black, unconscious and covered in blood, lay with his head resting in James’ lap.

Without thinking, James threw his head back and cried for help.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Chapter 7:  
> child abuse, violence, injuries, torture, blood, vomit
> 
> This is again a rather explicit chapter, please take care and stay safe!

_summer of 1976_

(week one)

Sirius landed on his hands and knees and instantly started to throw up.

His stomach had nothing left to give and so it only painfully cramped a couple of times, leaving him to retch and cough up fluid. When he was done, he was breathing heavily and for a moment, he allowed himself to pause, kneeling in the middle of the abandoned pavilion, wiping saliva and bile from his chin with his sleeve.

Kreacher had seen him. He was fucked.

A part of him wanted to give up then and there, surrender and hope for the best. Maybe they wouldn’t treat him as harshly if he turned himself in voluntarily.

But Sirius knew his family. With them, weakness was punished mercilessly. And most importantly, he knew himself enough to be aware that he could never submit to them without putting up a fight. He had tried playing along and it had only made things worse, so now, he would take whatever awaited him with his head held high. Perhaps he’d still be able to do some damage control.

He struggled to his feet and half-heartedly tried to fix his hair. It wouldn’t matter anyway, he’d given his dress robes to Lily Evans and his white shirt was covered in blood, dirt and vomit. He would have to sneak into the manor, change, and make it back to the garden again without being seen.

Sirius cursed under his breath and slowly began to stagger up the hill.

If he was lucky, the guests were all still occupied with that poor goblin and no one had even noticed that Evans was missing yet. His fingers gripped his wand firmly as he approached the house, he could hear the noises of the party getting louder with every step.

The air, loaded with black magic, lay thickly upon his skin.

Just as he was about to leave the shadow of the trees and enter the exposed area that led up to the manor, a dark silhouette emerged from the shadows to his right.

_Not him_ , he thought. _Of all people, why him?_

“Look at that”, said Snape, his voice cold.

“Has the little heir of the House of Black strayed too far from mummy and daddy?”

“Fuck you”, Sirius retorted immediately.

His thoughts were racing, his heart banging against his ribcage. Was it dark enough that he wouldn’t notice the stains on his clothes? And what was he doing out here anyway? Had he seen them?

As far as Sirius knew, Snape had some kind of delusional obsession with Lily, so if he had seen them, would he keep it to himself?

Suddenly another thing occurred to him and he clutched his wand even more tightly at the realisation: This was the first time that he was alone with Snape since The Prank.

Afterwards, they’d seen each other of course, even talked (or rather thrown insults in each other’s faces), but they had always been in the company of others, James mostly, and Dumbledore. Now however, there was no one but them in this part of the garden and Sirius was depending on him to keep his mouth shut.

“Listen”, he pressed out, fully aware of how pathetic it sounded.

But Snape didn’t let him finish and instead spat at him:

“You tried to kill me, you privileged fucking piece of shit!”

_Right._

“I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to listen to me.”

Snape moved to point his wand at him, but Sirius reacted instinctively and raised his own just as quickly. They stared at each other for a moment, each daring the other to go first.

“I almost died because of you and your monster friend”, Snape hissed.

It was all Sirius could do to stop himself from exploding at that.

“He is not”, he said slowly, “a monster.”

Snape made a dismissive sound and raised his chin.

“Right. That’s why they lock him up once a month. Because he’s so harmless.”

He didn’t have time for this, he needed to get back before anyone else noticed his absence.

“Listen”, Sirius repeated.

“I went too far last year. I know that. Just, give it a rest. And if you care about Evans, don’t fucking tell anyone you saw me here.”

A series of emotions flickered across Snape’s face, anger at first, and fear, and then something Sirius couldn’t quite place. But he didn’t move out of his way and stubbornly kept his wand pointed at Sirius’ chest.

“Where is she?”, he asked.

His voice was hoarse, like he had forgotten to swallow before speaking.

“I don’t have time to explain this to you, Snape, just get out of the way.”

The other boy looked at him with desperation in his eyes and said, almost pleadingly:

“I couldn’t have known. She can’t think that I did it on purpose, I couldn’t have known!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Swearing quietly, Snape turned his face away so Sirius couldn’t make out his features. It took a moment for him to understand what his words had meant, his head was still aching from apparating and puking his guts out, but when he did, it felt like he should have known all along.

“You’re the reason they took her instead of some random Muggle girl”, he realised.

“It was a fucking loyalty test, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t even need to see the tortured look on Snape’s face to know he was right. Sirius of all people knew the fucked-up ways these pure-bloods thought, after all he was one of them. And kidnapping someone to test a newcomer’s loyalty sounded exactly like something his parents would do.

“You fucking asshole”, he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

“Normally, they never would have taken a Hogwarts student, the risk that Dumbledore might get involved would be way too high and it’s just so much easier to kidnap some Muggle that doesn’t know shit about the wizarding world than someone who could potentially put up a fight.”

Snape still couldn’t seem to look at him.

“You fucking asshole”, Sirius said again.

“And you still chose them? They tortured your best friend in front of a crowd of people, right in front of you, and you still chose _them_!?”

“You’re the one that went up there and joined them!”, Snape snarled.

“I did that so I could get her out of there and safe her fucking life!”

Without meaning to, Sirius had raised his voice, unable to contain the rage that was burning in his chest. As he went on, he barely managed not to yell in Snape’s face:

“Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? I know you’re from some Muggle town and haven’t grown up among wizards, so maybe you’re just fucking stupid and haven’t gotten it through your underperforming head, but these people are the worst, cruellest, most self-absorbed, elitist kind of wizards there are! I would know, I’ve spent my entire fucking life surrounded by them.”

Sirius let out a breath. He was shaking with anger.

“If you still think it’s a good idea to support _them_ and their fucked-up ideals, you’re even more despicable than I thought.”

Very slowly, Snape turned his face back towards him. His eyes were glowing dangerously.

“You don’t know shit about my life”, he growled and for a moment it looked like he was going to fire a curse at Sirius.

Before either of them could perform any magic though, another voice came from farther uphill.

“Sirius? Is that you?”

Irene Krest, in her dark green velvet gown was approaching with swift and confident steps, a glass of champagne in her hand. She was smiling at him, in a way that made his insides twist.

“Your cousin has been looking for you”, Irene told him delightedly.

And, to Sirius’ horror, she turned to call over her shoulder: “I found him, he is right here!”

If Snape hadn’t been there still threatening him with his wand, he would have gotten rid of her the moment she spotted him, would have stunned her without a second thought. Then again, if Snape hadn’t been there, Sirius would have made it all the way up to his room by now.

“What are you doing back here?”, the blond girl asked. She had almost reached them, and three other figures were following suit. Sirius recognized Narcissa and Lucius immediately, behind them was one of the Lestrange brothers.

Snape hadn’t moved an inch. He was still staring at Sirius, his pale face an angry grimace in the dark.

“I was just having a chat with dear Severus here”, Sirius finally choked out.

Slowly, he lowered his wand, silently praying that Snape would play along. He didn’t dare to take his eyes off him and watched closely as the Slytherin imitated his movement.

“A friend of yours? How exciting!”

Irene stopped a couple of feet away and looked back and forth between them.

“Are you not going to introduce us?”, she asked, batting her eyes at Sirius.

He cleared his throat. One wrong word, one wrong move and she’d notice the blood on his shirt, and everything else that was wrong with the entire situation.

“Irene, this is Severus. Severus – Irene”, he complied to her wish.

Sirius still couldn’t allow himself to let Snape out of his sight.

With a painfully sweet chuckle, Irene turned to Snape and declared:

“It is such a pleasure to meet a friend of Sirius’. What are you two doing here all alone in the dark?”

The last thing he needed was a rumour about him snogging Severus Snape, but before he could say anything, Irene, who had gotten uncomfortably close to him, asked:

“What is that on your shirt? Is that blood?”

The three other pure-bloods were just a few feet away and Sirius could practically feel their suspicion leaking into the air around them.

Still looking at Snape opposite to him, Sirius said:

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

Lucius Malfoy’s voice seemed to cut through the night as he enquired:

“What is going on here?”

And Narcissa, a little more quietly but just as sharply, added: “Sirius, where were you?”

“Sn-… Severus and I were taking a little walk and having a conversation. We got carried away.”

Snape’s dark eyes held his gaze.

“Is that true?”

_Don’t fuck this up for me, Snivellus. Please._

Everyone had fixed their gazes on the Slytherin boy, who remained quiet for a long time. Then, Snape turned his face away from Sirius and said:

“I have no idea what he’s talking about. He appeared out of nowhere, covered in blood. I was just about to confront him.”

Something snapped inside of Sirius.

Without thinking, he fired a powerful freezing charm at Snape, effectively immobilizing him, crackling ice spreading over his entire body and onto the grass. Sirius didn’t stop to marvel at his work and promptly ducked away from a yellow curse that erupted from Lucius Malfoy’s wand.

Irene Krest screamed as a second bolt of light barely missed his head and Sirius blindly shot a stunning spell in the direction it had come from before turning to Lucius and Narcissa, who were closing in on him with outstretched wands.

“Give up, Black. You’re not getting out of this”, Malfoy jeered.

Sirius disarmed him with a flick of his wrist and just attempted to shoot another spell at his cousin, when something solid brutally collided with his ribs and threw him backwards on the ground. The world was blurring in front of his eyes, he desperately blinked to regain his vision, crawling away from his opponents until he hit a tree. 

As if from far away he heard Irene’s voice chirp:

“This is not the kind of behaviour I expected from Orion Black’s eldest son.”

Clumsily, he pulled himself back to his feet, now aiming at her. Lucius Malfoy casually picked up his wand from where it had landed on the ground and sneered at Sirius.

For a split second he considered firing a blasting curse at them, which surely would have been distraction enough for him to make a run for it, but although every inch of his body urged him to blow them up, he did nothing. He didn’t want to seriously harm Narcissa.

And if he ran now, they’d probably interrogate Regulus anyway once they noticed Lily was missing. No, Sirius needed to stay and actively take all the blame to keep them away from his brother. That was why he had returned in the first place.

“Sirius be reasonable”, Narcissa insisted.

Releasing a breath, he tilted his head to look up at the sky. The stars were taunting him, shining as clearly and brightly as ever, unbothered by his predicament.

Sirius dropped his wand.

A triumphant glim flashed in Lucius Malfoy’s colourless eyes and he stepped forwards to secure it, not missing the opportunity to prove his superiority to Sirius by leaning in way too close to his face and whispering:

“Once a blood traitor always a blood traitor, am I right?”

Sirius barely kept himself from spitting in his face.

“I’d rather be a blood traitor than one of you.”

“That is not very smart of you”, Irene snarled at him.

Gently, she placed her wand right on the point between his eyes and said:

“Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson.”

But Narcissa slapped her hand away with her own wand. Her voice was adamant as she ordered:

“Get his father. Or someone, I don’t care. We let them deal with him. And somebody defrost Severus.”

At first it seemed as if Irene was going to disagree, she was pouting very prettily, but then she just shrugged and turned to walk up the hill. Before she could leave, Lucius grabbed her by the arm.

“Someone should check on the Mudblood girl”, he told her.

“I have a feeling she might not be in her cell anymore.”

It felt like he was being drowned, and Sirius was desperate to come up for air.

The Cruciatus Curse seemed to bore deeper into his skull with every passing second, he was afraid his head would burst under the pressure. It was unbearable, like razor blades caressing every inch of his skin, white-hot and relentless.

From somewhere past the agony, he could faintly hear his mother’s voice, she was still screaming at him, an endless tirade of shameless insults. Sirius might have been bothered if the pain hadn’t been so vivid. Really, it was the only thing his wounded mind could focus on.

Everything else disappeared into spectres.

_I can take it_ , he promised himself.

It wasn’t the first time, it wasn’t even the worst time.

Still, it was just so, so much.

_I can take it._ _I can take it. I can take it._

His teeth were grinding against each other and something was vibrating in the back of his throat, but he wasn’t screaming, was determined to keep the little dignity he still had left.

“Ungrateful, traitorous scum! A disgrace to your ancestors! No son of mine could have turned out so rotten!”

She was still keeping him under the curse. Despite her agitation, her wand was steady in her hand and her magic was inescapable.

Sirius hopelessly struggled against it, tried to keep his own magic shielded inside of him, along with his wit, tried to use his occlumency to protect them from the raging fire of the Cruciatus Cruse that was drilling into him inexorably.

He just needed to endure it and pray there wouldn’t be any lasting damages.

He’d done it before. He could do it again.

_I can take it._

The moments seemed to pass like ages, each one a dreadful, horror-filled century of distress and Sirius felt like he was aging rapidly, his skin was wrinkling, his spine was curling, his thoughts were withering away.

Maybe he should just allow the pain to take him. End it quickly, keep it clean.

And just like that, the curse was lifted.

Slowly, consciousness began to creep back into him.

Fresh air was pouring into his lungs as he panted frantically and blinked against his blurring vision. 

He was on the floor, knees pulled to his chest and face pressed against the cool stone beneath him. His fingers had been digging into the ground, nails breaking, and there was blood dripping from his mouth – apparently, he had bitten into his lip when he’d clenched his teeth.

Sirius tried to push himself up on his elbows, but a heavy boot came down on his back and he crashed into the floor again. From there, he peered up at his mother, who was standing over him like a pillar of his shame.

Opposite to her, Orion Black was a silent threat, pacing behind him, and Sirius didn’t dare to make another attempt to face him.

“How dare you!”, Walburga spat at him.

“Choosing a Mudblood over your family, over our traditions! And ruining our good reputation!”

Her voice was shaking with anger and something else that sounded like she was actually, truly horrified at what he’d done. Like it wasn’t just another excuse to teach him some manners or simply wreak her general disappointment on him.

“Associating with those blood traitors and half-breeds at school was a stupid act of rebellion we should not have tolerated in the first place. But this?! I never thought my own flesh could betray me like this!”

He wanted to retort something but couldn’t seem to raise his voice.

“We should have been more thorough with your education. How else could you have become this much of a failure, a disgrace to the name of Black!”

“More thorough?”, he heard himself rasp. “What would that have looked like, exactly? Regular whipping sessions before bedtime?”

The shuffle of feet in his back stopped abruptly. His mother’s wand slit through the air like a knife through butter and Sirius was pushed back under, the curse washing over him like a flood of pure cruelty.

This time, it was worse than before. Now, she _really_ wanted to see him suffer.

_I can take it,_ he repeated, like a mantra in his head.

As long as he could still cling to that, he was going to be fine. He had to be.

After all, he had promised it to Remus, had promised that he could be reasonable and control himself, had promised that he’d make it through the summer. And Sirius needed to stay true to his word because if he couldn’t, there was no chance Remus would ever trust him again.

He had lost all sense of time, most things he had been sure of were on the verge of vanishing into irrelevancy. The only thing that was irrefutably real was the pain.

_Take it_ , he told himself. _Be a fucking Gryffindor and take it._

Inside the carefully guarded corner of his head, the one his occlumency was built around like a wall of stone, Sirius knew that there was worse yet to come. Something deep inside him was getting restless.

Again, the curse was lifted from him all at once, and his vision began to clear, he was breathing heavily, his hands were trembling.

Sirius lifted his head to look up at Walburga Black. There was no sympathy in her expression, no hint at reluctance or remorse. No indication that this woman was in fact his mother.

He could feel his lips curling into a cynical smile, more baring his teeth than anything else. It was the only way he knew to maintain some sort of control, to keep himself from crying and begging at her feet. Walburga Black appeared unimpressed.

“The other families are surely talking about it already. You brought shame on all of us, you stupid selfish ignorant little piece of shit! Your father and I will have to go back out there and make sure the rumours do not get out of hand.”

“Imagine what they’re thinking”, Sirius growled, “that one of you lot might not be into gruesome torture and blatant discrimination.”

Before he had even finished speaking, Walburga had stepped forward and stamped a steely heel down on his exposed right wrist. An ugly _crack_ echoed in his ears. It took all the willpower he had to keep himself from howling as the sharp pain shot through his arm.

Sirius was quivering on the ground, held in place by her foot on his hand and fighting to supress the whimpers that kept escaping his throat despite his best efforts.

“You will learn to keep your filthy mouth shut”, she hissed.

Finally, she released him. He could feel her watching with satisfaction as he pulled his useless hand to his chest, it was frozen at an awkward angle and he couldn’t seem to move his fingers.

Behind him the pacing of feet resumed.

“Do not think you will only receive this mild of a punishment. There are more important matters to be dealt with first. Afterwards, we will continue this conversation.”

The threat sent a shiver down his spine. But he did nothing.

Instead of protesting and throwing another snarky remark at his mother, Sirius just blankly stared ahead at the part of her legs that was visible to him from his position on the floor, partly hoping that if he didn’t move, he would just dissolve.

Everything in him was exhausted from the curses and the throbbing in his wrist. Sirius just wanted to disappear.

Neither of his parents said another word as they walked out of the windowless cellar room, they had dragged him to. The door fell shut and the lock made a portentous clicking noise. 

Now alone in the dark, Sirius dragged his aching body to the nearest wall and allowed himself to release the tears he’d been holding back the entire time. They came streaming down his face hot and plentifully.

His mother had taken his wand and he had given the mirror to Regulus before he and Evans had disapparated so there was no way for him to get in contact with James, no way to call for help and to escape his unfortunate situation.

All that was left for him to do was to curl up in a corner of the cell and shut his eyes against the all-consuming darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts in the comments and leave kudos if you enjoyed the chapter :))


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